Harry Potter and the Tears of the Dragon
by Thomas-Michael
Summary: Post PoA AU. Draco doesn't want to become a Death Eater. Can he convince the very skeptical Golden Trio to help him and his younger sister escape the clutches of Voldemort and Lucius? Now T.
1. Unexpected Letters

**Authors Note: All characters are copyrighted by their respective owners. This work of fiction is for entertainment only. No profit is being garnered from this work. It represents an intellectual exercise only.**

**Rated K+ for the occassional bout of language and eventual implied violence. All comments and constructive criticism welcome!**

**Chapter 1 - Unexpected Letters**

The sun was setting at the end of another long and tiring day for Harry Potter. He had spent the entire afternoon doing chores for his Aunt Petunia. While the threat of his godfather, Sirius Black, had made this summer slightly more bearable than the previous two, The Dursleys were far from hospitable. After vacuuming and mopping the floors in the house, weeding the garden and trimming the lawn, Harry had spent the last few hours turning the compost heap in the back yard. He was hot, sweaty, smelly and exhausted.

Though he had grown quite a lot in the last year, and was now tall for his age of thirteen, he was still rather skinny. He had a shock of black hair that was most unruly, and haunting green eyes. Supposedly, he looked exactly like his father, but had his mother's eyes. Harry had to take everyone's word for it, as he had never met his parents. They had been killed by Lord Voldemort, a powerful dark wizard when Harry was but one year old. Harry, too, was a wizard, and Voldemort had tried to kill him as well. Something, however, had gone wrong, and Harry had not been killed. Instead, as a souvenir of Lord Voldemort, he had a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead that Harry usually tried to keep covered with his wild hair. Voldemort - the spell having rebounded on him - by contrast had been weakened so terribly that he was forced to go back into hiding for ten brief years. As a wizard-in-training, Harry attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and would be entering his fourth year when the fall term began September 1. Harry sighed, remembering that it was still just over a month until the start of school, and trudged upstairs to the bathroom to clean up before dinner, careful to avoid the Dursleys. He was too tired for a confrontation at the moment.

As he waited for the water in the shower to heat up, Harry took advantage of the opportunity to look at himself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door in the bathroom. "Still too scrawny," he thought. He wondered when he would begin to fill out as much as he seemed to be growing taller. He wondered if one of his best friends, Ron Weasley, a fellow Griffyndor, was growing as fast as he had last summer. Gryffindor was Harry's house at school, his family really, and his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were also fourth-year Gryffindors. As he scrubbed the dirt and smell of the day off of him, Harry was excited to realize that in a few days, just a couple of days after his birthday tomorrow, he would be going to the Burrow, the ancestral Weasley home for the remainder of the summer. While this would be happening after his birthday, he knew it to be a far better present than he could ever expect to receive from the Dursleys.

Ron and Hermione had proven to be better friends than Harry could have ever dreamed. Together they had been responsible for causing quite a bit of mischief, and solving a few mysteries. He wondered when his two best friends would finally realize they had feelings for each other that went beyond friendship. Of course, he realized that they were all just fourteen years old, but the hormones were beginning to rage, and he heard that wizarding families, especially pureblood families, tended to encourage their children to begin looking around early for potential mates. As he thought more about it, he couldn't recall where he had heard that information, there was still so much he didn't know about the wizarding world, having grown up in the muggle world until the age of eleven.

For some reason, the word 'pureblood' stuck in his head, and that made him think of Draco Malfoy, his arch-enemy at Hogwarts. Malfoy was a Slytherin - the house at Hogwarts that was reputed to be full of dark wizards in training - and was entering the fourth year, like the "Golden Trio," as Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sometimes called around Hogwarts. Draco's father Lucius was reported to be a reformed Death Eater. Lucius had claimed to be under the Imperius curse during Voldemort's reign of terror, and thus escaped being imprisoned in Azkaban, the wizard prison. Harry thought that Mr. Malfoy was probably still a Death Eater, and was just waiting for Voldemort's return to power. Draco certainly acted like he was a card-carrying member of the Future Death Eaters of England the way he, well, the way he did everything. He especially seemed to hate Harry Potter.

Harry had no illusions as to why this might be the case. It all dated back to an event on the Hogwarts Express at the start of Harry's first year. Harry had been sitting in a cabin on the train with Ron Weasley when Malfoy and his two thugs, Crabbe and Goyle, had barged in. Malfoy had demanded to know whether Harry Potter was really Harry Potter, and when his identity had been verified, immediately wanted to be friends. Of course, this was after Malfoy had made the mistake of insulting Ron, making several disparaging comments about Ron's family, social status, and preference for being friendly to muggles. Harry had refused to shake hands, and he and Malfoy had been working hard to hex each other senseless ever since. It wasn't that Harry hated Draco Malfoy. The only person Harry thought he might truly hate was Voldemort, it was just that Malfoy had been needlessly cruel, arrogant, and a prat in general. Harry hadn't exactly given him many second chances, in all fairness.

Finishing his shower, Harry got dressed and went downstairs to endure dinner with his Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and cousin Dudley before returning to his room (Dudley's second bedroom, but still better than the cupboard) to do homework.

The rule for a quiet dinner in the Dursley household, at least if you were Harry Potter, was to try your hardest not to be noticed. Apparently, the gods were with Harry this evening, as Uncle Vernon was going on about some huge drill order that had come in that morning (he was a director at Grunnings, a local firm that made drills), Aunt Petunia was prating about the neighbors latest vacation in Majorca, and Dudley was engrossed in some inane television program as usual.

After dinner, Harry quickly returned upstairs and began working on an essay for Transfiguration. It wasn't due until the start of the term, but Harry knew that if he didn't get it done before heading to the Burrow it wouldn't get done at all. Several hours and several close calls later with an irate Uncle Vernon, Harry rolled up the parchment and with a whispered, "Nox," put out the light and went quickly to sleep.

Harry awoke to a scratching at the window, and putting on his glasses turned to see not just Hedwig but no fewer than four other owls outside the window. This was quite a surprise to Harry as the majority of his birthdays had passed with depressing unmomentuousness. Still in his boxer shorts, he quickly opened the window (the bars had been removed long ago in an incident involving three Weasleys and a flying Ford Anglia and never replaced) and let the owls into the room. Harry cringed at the ruckus the owls were making, and was genuinely scared when he heard Uncle Vernon grumble, "Ruddy owls!"as he turned over in his sleep. The first owl, of course, was Hedwig, who had arrived with a card from Hagrid. He removed the card from Hedwig's leg, gave her a pat on the head and sent her to her cage for a nap. The next owl he attended to was a tiny little thing; it was Pig, the owl Ron had gotten from Sirius at the end of last year. Pig also had a card, and a small box, and, relieved of his burden, joined Hedwig in the cage. The third owl was from Hermione who had also sent a card, and a large heavy box as well. The fourth owl Harry recognized as being one of the school owls, and it contained a letter, strangely, from Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts. "That's odd," thought Harry, and shrugging, he turned to the fifth owl.

This owl Harry did not recognize at all, but he noticed it as having a definite 'air' about it, as if it were rather put out at having to make a postal delivery to a very muggle address. When he removed the letter from the owl and turned the envelope over, he sat down very suddenly on his bed. The seal on the envelope was the Malfoy crest, the letter 'M' with a dragon in silhouette. Harry was stunned. Why in the world would the Malfoys send him a letter, much less on his birthday? He opened the letter immediately and read:

_Dear Potter,_

_I know in all likelihood that you are rather shocked to be receiving a letter from me, and I would not be at all surprised if you were to throw this directly in the rubbish bin. If you have read this far, please continue to do so._

_The fact of the matter is this: my father is a Death Eater, and intends to do anything he can to speed Voldemort's return. My mother, though loyal to the family, does not share my father's sentiments, and probably much to your surprise, neither do I. I have no desire to find myself on the path that my father has set for me. I do not wish to go into details in this letter, but find myself hoping that your Gryffindor sense of "right" will allow us to discuss this in greater detail at the first opportunity. _

_Do not reply to me by return owl, as that runs the risk of my father intercepting our correspondence. _

_Draco Malfoy_

_P.S. - I am also informing Headmaster Dumbledore of my intentions. -DM_

_P.P.S - Do NOT get the idea in your head that this means we're friends, and do _

_NOT expect me to be nice to either you, that disgrace-to-the-wizarding-world Weasley, or the buck-toothed mudblood Granger either! -DM_

Harry was still stunned. In all the realm of potential letters, one from Draco Malfoy had been off the map, much less one from Draco Malfoy that indicated his intentions to break with his father's wishes. It was several minutes before Harry, who had been staring blankly into space, remembered the other letters, and opened the one from the Headmaster:

_My Dear Harry,_

_First and foremost, Happy Birthday! I am quite hopeful, my boy, that you will pass an enjoyable day, if not today, then in the near future at the Burrow. I will see to it that all further correspondence finds you there, which I am sure surprises you not one bit._

_I would also guess that at nearly the same time as receiving this letter, you have also received one from a certain Slytherin of who you are less than fond. If your letter contained the same information as mine, then we are equally dumbfounded. Young Mister Malfoy has informed me of his intentions to speak with you, and I hope you will be able to find it within you to hear what he has to say. He has also agreed to meet with me upon arrival at Hogwarts, and even offered to submit to questioning under the influence of Veritaserum._

_This is a most disturbing development, my boy, but I must ask you to be as supportive of young Mister Malfoy as you can. You will also please accompany him to my office when he is summoned after the Welcome Feast. Until then, I will keep you posted of any further correspondence, and ask that you do the same._

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Order of Merlin First Class, etc. etc._

For Harry, the second letter was nearly as staggering as the first. Malfoy was...defecting? And what was even more unbelievable had offered to submit to taking Veritaserum with Harry present? It was simply too much for Harry to grasp at that early hour. He decided to sleep a little longer, as the Dursleys had learned not to bother him before he awoke naturally. Harry was convinced he would wake again in a few hours having imagined the existence of both letters. He fell asleep so quickly, he forgot about the other three cards, and the presents.


	2. Malfoys En Familie

**Authors Note: All characters are copyrighted by their respective owners. This work of fiction is for entertainment only. No profit is being garnered from this work. It represents an intellectual exercise only.**

**Rated K+ for the occasional use of language and eventual implied violence. All comments, suggestions, and constructive criticism welcome!**

**Chapter 2 – Malfoys _En Familie_**

Draco Malfoy woke about the time Harry was falling back asleep. The hour was late, and he was glad that his father was away at some secret Death Eater meeting. Draco would never have attempted to send the letters he sent last night if he thought there was even the slightest chance his father would find out. That would simply have meant a fate worse than death, perhaps a fate even worse than of becoming a Death Eater, for Draco Malfoy. Draco got out of bed and immediately crossed the room to head to the shower. The Malfoys, being a well-respected, old, pureblood wizarding family had quite a fortune, and therefore, quite a manor. Draco's bedroom was easily the size of the Slytherin common room at Hogwarts, and he had his own bathroom as well. The bedroom was decorated predominantly in greens and grays, the Slytherin colors, while the bathroom was done entirely in black and white Italian marble with solid gold fixtures.

Like Harry, Draco Malfoy availed himself of the full-length mirror in the bathroom to examine himself. He was slightly taller than average, with blond hair so light it appeared almost prematurely white. His eyes were the grey of a stormy sea, and his body was that of a runner, though he was not a runner in any sense of the word. Draco lacked the scrawny look of Harry Potter, most likely because of better nutrition, but neither had he begun to broaden in the shoulders and chest. Even so, and much to his disgust, he still looked very much like the thirteen year old boy that he was.

Sighing, Draco stepped into the shower and began to scrub himself, hoping that he would be fully awake before he had to face anyone, especially his father, who was due back at Malfoy Manor sometime during the day, and who almost certainly would want to speak with Draco. Draco was not fond of his father these days. He was a Death Eater, and was in Voldemort's inner circle. Draco missed his younger days, when his father was much more loving, kind, and frankly more present than he was now. Draco, and his mother, had watched the Dark Lord consume the elder Malfoy, until the only thing left of the human being they had both loved was a cruel, heartless shell.

It had never been Draco's intention, after his father had become ensnared in Voldemort's web, to become a Death Eater himself. While Draco was most certainly a Malfoy, and was motivated primarily by power, as were all male Malfoys, he maintained some semblance of scruples. Somehow, sometime before his father became so evil, Draco had developed a very real sense of right and wrong, and a true love for all that was good in the world. Only rarely did this sense see the light of day; it was hidden deep under the Malfoy veneer of arrogance, power, and elegance. But, it did exist, and it was this seed of goodness that kept Draco from truly following in his father's footsteps.

Draco finished his morning ritual, no small feat as even around Malfoy Manor he was required to dress formally and be well-groomed. He went downstairs to breakfast, still hoping that his father would not have yet returned. He needed to talk frankly with his mother, and his sister, if possible.

Draco's sister, Ivy, was a year behind Draco at Hogwarts, and because they were so close in age, Draco and Ivy were often mistaken for twins. Ivy was the mirror image of Draco, with the same long face and white-blond hair. As Draco's features were quite fine, if not feminine, this was even more emphasized in Ivy. If Draco was quite handsome (and he was), then Ivy was equally beautiful.

As Draco headed toward the wing of the house where the kitchen and dining rooms were, he thought about his sister fondly. In spite of their rather formal upbringing, Draco and Ivy had a very close relationship. Draco worried about her, and was quite overprotective, even though he toned it down in public. Malfoys did not let their emotions control their actions. Draco was especially worried about Ivy at the moment, as he was not sure of her intentions regarding their father. Though Draco had sworn to himself that he would not support Voldemort, he had not seen fit to share this with Ivy, and was unsure of what her reaction would be.

Fortune smiled on Draco when he entered the dining room to join his mothr, as his father was as yet absent. Draco's mother, Narcissa, was in the informal dining room, just off the kitchen. This was the room that the Malfoys used for meals when they were not entertaining. There was a much more spacious formal dining room for dinner parties.

Narcissa Malfoy was seated at the large cherry table staring out the window at the lawn in front of the manor. A house elf, having just brought her tea, but no solid food, was just retiring back into the kitchen to ready Draco's breakfast of toast and a mug of hot chocolate. Draco didn't like to admit it, but he loved hot chocolate, and all manner of sweets. "Good morning, mother." He said, somewhat tentatively.

"Oh, good morning, Draco." His mother replied somewhat absent-mindedly.

"Where is Ivy?" Draco asked.

"I believe she is in the library, doing some reading." His mother responded, still watching the front lawn.

"I wanted you to know that I sent those letters we talked about." Draco's mother turned and looked at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"That is for the best then." Narcissa responded, clearly trying to be strong in the face of uncertainty and fear. Draco did not quite know how to react to this kinder, gentler Narcissa. She had always been supportive of Lucius Malfoy, and as Lucius in recent history had guided Draco and Ivy's upbringing with a cold, calculating hand, so had Narcissa. Seeing his mother emotional, and clearly upset only reinforced the image Draco had recalled earlier of kinder, happier days, and he resolved that he would somehow figure a way to get his mother free of the grasp of Voldemort, though she was there unwillingly and only by association.

The conversation between mother and son might have continued, but Lucius Malfoy chose that particular moment to return from his night of evildoing. The only warning Narcissa and Draco had of Lucius' return was a loud crack as Lucius apparated in the room set off the main entrance specifically for such methods of travel. Draco and Narcissa had no more time for words, but did exchange a brief glance that spoke more about their familial feelings then words could ever have hoped to convey.

"Ah, Draco. I'm glad you're up. Narcissa please excuse us. I need to have a chat with my son." Lucius said without preamble as he walked into the dining room. Lucius Malfoy was largely an older version of Draco. He had the same build, skin coloring, hair color, and eye color as Draco, but he wore his hair longer,to his waist. Like most men, Lucius had filled out with age, though he was merely trim, whereas Draco was downright skinny. Fresh from his night of Death Eater activities, Lucius' eyes were glimmering, and his cheeks were slightly flushed with adrenaline and excitement. Draco didn't want to think about where his father might have been or what he might have been doing.

It was at moments like this that he hated most the person his father had become.

Draco longed for his real father – the man who, at least in private, had laughed at Draco's antics as a young boy, and spent time playing with his son, reading to him, and taking him on walks across the extensive Malfoy lands. The anger Draco now felt toward his father had taken many forms, not the least of which was Draco's hatred of Harry Potter. At the time when Draco most needed a friend, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, had rejected Draco Malfoy. At the time Draco was leaving for his first year of school at Hogwarts, his father had been his most distant, as Lord Voldemort made his first attempt at returning to power. Draco had felt alone and friendless, and really he was. Malfoys did not have friends; they had acquaintances, or associates, or even assistants, but not friends. Draco Malfoy wanted a friend, and tried to make friends with Harry Potter the only way he knew how – by being superior. It had hurt terribly when Harry had instead chosen friendship with Ron Weasley, and Draco had harbored the grudge ever since.

Thinking about Ron Weasley made Draco even more angry. Prior to Harry's choice of friends that first year at Hogwarts, Draco had merely despised the Weasleys, as he had been trained to do from a very early age. While Lucius had failed to impress on Draco the importance of being evil, he had at least succeeded in giving Draco a healthy appreciation for what it meant to be from a pure-blooded wizarding family. Certain standards had to be upheld, and while Draco did not have any real desire to discriminate against muggles, and muggle-born wizards, he did see a distinct need for caution where the muggle world was concerned. The Weasleys, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to this concept of what standards of behavior were expected of pure-blood wizard families, and the fact that they were poorer than dirt only made things worse in Draco's opinion. The truth was, Draco thought to himself as Lucius guided Draco toward his private chamber underneath the rug in the living room, that he hated Ron Weasley because in spite of all that he lacked, Ron Weasley was happy and loved. Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, appeared to have everything, but felt very much alone and miserable.

Having arrived in Lucius Malfoy's underground office, where all of the really questionable and downright illegal dark arts artifacts, books, and implements were kept, Draco stood before Lucius' desk as Lucius seated himself behind. He was rather surprised to see Ivy standing next to her father with that characteristic Malfoy smirk. He was quite scared.

"Draco," Lucius drawled, smiling evilly. "Your sister informs me that you and your mother have been plotting. It seems that neither of you have any desire to serve the Dark Lord, and have communicated your intentions to Albus Dumbledore, and Harry Potter. This does not make me happy." Lucius' eyes flashed dangerously. Draco waited, wondering how in the world his sister had found out.

"It was quite simple, really." Ivy spoke into the silence. "I overheard you and mother whispering to each other in the library the other day while father was gone, and then last night I noticed that two of the owls were gone. I assumed that your conversation with mother where I happened to hear the phrase 'never serve him' along with mother talking about Harry Potter and Dumbledore was what caused the owls to be sent and I informed father immediately." Ivy looked very pleased with herself. Draco was horrified, wondering if he had lost his sister forever. She, clearly, was anxious to do Lucius' bidding, no matter the cost. Draco began to sweat. This was very, very bad.

"Now, Draco, for whatever reason, you and your mother have chosen to disobey me. I will deal with your mother. As for you, my initial reaction was to let the Dark Lord deal with you himself, but upon further reflection, I have decided this is simply a matter of innocent teenage rebellion, and believe we can use this situation to our advantage." Lucius continued, still smiling evilly.

Draco finally found his voice. "This has nothing to do with teenage rebellion. I will not serve V-Voldemort, and I will not help you bring him back for whatever vile existence he currently enjoys!" Draco fairly spat this at Lucius, though the use of the proper name made him blanch.

"How dare you speak the Dark Lord's name!" Lucius rose, pounding his fist on the desk. He swooped around it, and stood just inches from Draco. "You will serve him."

"I will not!" Draco yelled, fighting back tears of rage and fear.

"You will, because if you do not, your mother will die, and it will not be an easy not a quick death. In fact, I will make you kill her yourself, even if I have to put you under the Imperius curse. And then, after you've killed your mother – it will take days for her to die given what I have in mind - I will flay you to within an inch of your life, and then turn you over to the Dark Lord to do what he will with you, and I imagine he will not be merciful."

Draco was again speechless. He could not imagine who this monster was that claimed to be his father, nor what had happened or what he had done to deserve this fate. But Lucius was continuing, and Draco found himself unable to look at his father.

"You will now go to your room, and you will not leave until it is time for you to return to school. House elves will deliver your food at mealtimes, and will pick up your supplies from Diagon Alley. You will return to Hogwarts, where you will enlist the aid of Harry Potter and that muggle-loving fool Albus Dumbledore. I will send you further instruction at the appropriate time, and I will know if you are behaving...properly or not."

Draco was utterly defeated. He barely noticed his father and sister leading him to his room, which had become his world, his prison. He could only think of his mother, and how, even if he deserved this fate, she did not. Not after what he had seen in her eyes this morning. Draco only became conscious of his surroundings after he heard the click of the lock, the outside lock, on his bedroom door. It was then that he thanked whatever gods there were that he was a Malfoy, and as such, had seen fit to make emergency provisions for himself in his room. He quickly crossed to his writing desk, removed the false bottom in the largest drawer, took out quill, ink and paper, and began to furiously write, grateful for the secret passage in his bathroom that led out of the house to the owlery. He just prayed his sister was less observant this time.


	3. More Letters and Unexpected Guests

**Authors Note: All characters are copyrighted by their respective owners. This work of fiction is for entertainment only. No profit is being garnered from this work. It represents an intellectual exercise only.**

**Rated K+ for eventual implied violence and the occasional bad word. All comments, suggestions, and constructive criticism welcome!**

**Chapter 3 – More Letters and Unexpected Guests**

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry pondering the latest correspondence from one Draco Malfoy:

_Dear Headmaster Dumbledore,_

_Pursuant to a conversation with my father regarding my intentions with respect to Lord Voldemort, I have been imprisoned in my room at Malfoy Manor until such time as I can return to Hogwarts. Given that I am already taking a significant risk in even communicating with you further, I must inform you that I have been instructed to use my intentions to defect as a cover to speed the return of Lord Voldemort, and to possibly harm Harry Potter. My father has lost all semblance of rationality, and has threatened to kill my mother, and to turn me over to Lord Voldemort if I "misbehave." My sister, for the moment, has chosen to side with my father, and I fear for her. Provided I am not discovered in the posting of this letter, I am at a loss as to how to proceed. Please advise at your earliest convenience. I remain,_

_Yours respectfully,_

_Draco Malfoy_

Even with the implications of such a letter, Dumbledore had to chuckle. Only a Malfoy would write such a polite letter, never mind that the Malfoy in question was in mortal peril. Dumbledore's smile quickly faded as he re-considered the seriousness of the situation. "I must do something about this, I'm afraid," Dumbledore thought to himself as he got up and began to pace his office. He was so deep in thought that he did not notice the number of magical instruments about the office, of which there were many, the portraits of all the previous Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts, of which there were also many, or Fawkes the Phoenix, of which there was exactly one. Neither did he notice the entrance of his Potions professor, Severus Snape, who stood for some time in the entrance to the office before clearing his throat rather irritably.

Dumbledore looked up immediately. "Ah Severus, my apologies, I did not see you there." Dumbledore smiled indulgently and returned to his desk. "Please have a seat."

"Headmaster, you wished to see me?" Professor Snape queried, sitting in a chair he had just conjured.

"Yes I did, Severus. It would appear that Draco Malfoy is in significant danger." At this, Snape raised an eyebrow. "And why, Headmaster, would my best Potions student and the heir of Lucius Malfoy be in significant danger?" Snape queried in a voice that was as oily as his hair.

Without a word, Dumbledore passed the first letter he had received from Draco across his desk to Snape, and waited quietly while the Potions Master read the missive from Snape's favorite Slytherin. The letter was concise, and it wasn't long before Snape looked up at Dumbledore, smiling slightly. "It would appear that young Mr. Malfoy has finally come to his senses. This does not explain the danger to him, however. In fact, it would appear that he is in significantly less danger than he has been, at least on a long-term basis," Snape stated.

"Yes, Severus, I'm afraid that is not the whole story," the Headmaster responded cryptically. "You see, young Ivy has found out about Draco and Narcissa's plan to defect, and though Ivy is quite close to her brother, a fact that very few people know, she has chosen to inform Lucius of Draco and Narcissa's intentions. Thus this second letter, which I have only just received," Dumbledore continued, as he held up Draco Malfoy's more recent correspondence and handed it to Snape.

This time, Snape took longer to read the letter, though it was shorter than the first. This time, Snape was not smiling. "Draco has done an admirable job of downplaying the situation; I believe he may be in even more danger than he realizes," Snape observed, clearly concerned. Dumbledore couldn't help but think that concern was a most un-Snape-like emotion, but he was not complaining.

"I concur, Severus. What do you propose that we do about it?" was Dumbledore's response.

"Several possibilities come to mind, none of which particularly excite me. The most obvious is to inform the Ministry of Magic of these two letters and allow them to deal with the situation," Snape stated flatly.

"I see," replied Dumbledore equally flatly. Snape continued on. "However, the Ministry of Magic is currently quite occupied with the search for Sirius Black." Snape scowled at remembering the escape of Sirius Black. Dumbledore's corresponding reaction was for the corners of his mouth to twitch up ever so slightly.

"I think, Severus, that it would be best if we did not unnecessarily disturb the Ministry at this time," Dumbledore said gently.

"I suppose we could go and reason with Lucius, although it seems to me he is beyond reason," Snape said. "At any rate, I believe we must remove Draco Malfoy from Malfoy manner, and do so quickly."

"I have arrived at much the same conclusion, Severus. But what to do with him after we, ah, rescue him?" Dumbledore asked, eyebrows raised. "The safest thing would be to bring him here, but I do not believe I would like a lone student loose in Hogwarts for a month." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"As much as I am fond of young Mr. Malfoy, I concur, Headmaster. There is only so much I could stand to have him underfoot in the Potions laboratory. Perhaps he could stay at the Leaky Cauldron? That worked rather well for Potter last year." Snape could not hide the disdain in his voice at the mention of Harry Potter.

Dumbledore didn't seem to notice. "No, I don't think that's advisable. No doubt Lucius will be looking for young Mr. Malfoy, and the Leaky Cauldron is no place for keeping someone's presence unknown. I think I have just the place. We will send him to stay with the Weasleys. I'm certain they won't mind a bit, as they're already planning to have Harry Potter and Hermione Granger there from the end of this week on anyway."

Had Snape heard that suggestion from anyone other than Albus Dumbledore he would have given them a tongue-lashing that would have made Sinbad the Sailor blush. As it was, he turned very purple in the face and the veins in his neck and forehead throbbed dangerously, but he managed to keep his response to, "That should prove an...interesting...situation for all parties involved."

"Well, yes, but the Burrow is quite safe as I doubt Lucius would think to look there for his wayward son, plus, if Draco's intentions as stated in his correspondence are real, then he will be spending no small amount of time with Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermoine Granger in the very near future anyway. I suppose they might as well all get used to the idea," Dumbledore said, holding back a chuckle at the thought of the sheer amount of chaos that would most likely ensue.

"As you say, Headmaster, but how do you propose to rescue Draco Malfoy from the manor?" Snape pressed onward, determined to not dwell on the three Gryffindor students any longer than necessary.

"Severus, do you think you might be interested in a working holiday, to Wiltshire?" Dumbledore asked, smiling again.

Snape sighed, but did not appear at all surprised. "I suppose that could be arranged."

"Excellent. I will floo Draco Malfoy sometime in the next few days, as I believe the fireplace in his room at Malfoy Manor is still connected to the Floo network, and make arrangements accordingly. I do not believe that young Mr. Malfoy is in immediate danger, but the less time he spends at Malfoy Manor the better," said Dumbledore. "Harry Potter and Hermione Granger will arrive at the Burrow the day after tomorrow. I believe it would be best for young Mr. Malfoy to arrive shortly thereafter."

"As you wish, Headmaster." Snape bowed, sensing the conversation was over, and turned and left the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore smiled at the retreating Potions Master and began looking through his desk for his hidden stash of lemon drops.

* * *

Harry awoke about the time Severus Snape left Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts. After the first few moments of confusion that always follow waking up first thing in the morning, he shot up in bed remembering the strange happenings of the night before. Harry immediately looked over to his night table where the two opened letters remained. "So it was real," he thought to himself, thinking that this had to have been one of the strangest birthdays he had ever had. That was when he remembered he had three other letters, and presents, to open. Harry leaped out of bed and crossed to where he had left the remainder of his mail delivery of the night before. The card from Hagrid was typical: 

_Dear Harry,_

_Happy Birthday! Hard to believe yer already 14! I got summat for yeh here at Hogwarts, but it was too big to send by owl. Hope the muggles are treating you right._

_Hagrid_

Harry had to chuckle. Somehow it didn't really surprise him that Hagrid spelled much like he talked, and he could hear Hagrid's voice in his head as he read the letter. Harry couldn't help but wonder what in the world Hagrid had bought for him that was too big to send via owl. That thought made Harry shudder, as Hagrid had a liking for strange and potentially dangerous animals. Harry hoped that his birthday present from the Hogwarts Care of Magical Creatures Professor wasn't something like an Entempered Spike-Tailed, Three-Humped Yak, but he wasn't going to hold his breath over that one.

Harry next opened the letter from Ron. Written in Ron's atrocious handwriting (it was almost as bad as Harry's) was the following note:

_Happy Birthday Harry!_

_ I was having trouble coming up with a gift for your birthday, so Mum and I went to Diagon Alley, and I found you this. Obviously, it's not an expensive one or anything, but as long you like it, that's all that counts. Things are good here. Everyone is up to their usual tricks. Looking forward to seeing you soon, mate!_

_Your friend,_

_Ron_

Harry opened the box to find a pocket watch. However, like most things in the wizard world, this was not a normal pocket watch. It told the time like a muggle watch, but the watch face rotated in its setting. Harry discovered after reading the instructions that came with the watch that the backside of the watch functioned much like the clock in the Weasley house. However, whereas the Weasley clock had a picture of each family member on an arm of the clock which would rotate to a word to indicate that person's status ("Sleeping" or "In Trouble" for example), Harry only had to speak the name of the person he was concerned about and the watch face would display a picture of a bit of parchment with writing on it. Deciding he should try it out, Harry spoke the words "Ron Weasley" and was rewarded with the words "Eating Breakfast" appearing magically. "Figures," Harry snorted, and then he set the watch and card from Ron on his bed and turned to his last gift, from Hermione.

Harry paused to consider the rather bulky gift. "Surely it's not books. The owl never could have carried it here alone if it were," Harry mused. Hedging his bets, he opened the letter first.

_Dear Harry,_

_Happy Birthday! I hope this letter finds you well, and that your family is treating you well. I've been spending the holidays in France with my parents. It's been a lot of fun, but I will definitely be ready for school to start September 1. I've already done my summer homework for all my classes and am getting slightly bored with just lying on the beach and relaxing. I look forward to seeing you at the Burrow soon. Enjoy the present! I hope you don't mind what I bought you; I just thought you would enjoy it. And I think you'll agree after you open it, it's very useful._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

Harry snorted at the idea that Hermione had already finished her summer homework, but he wasn't exactly surprised. She did tend to be a little over the top when it came to school. Unfortunately, Hermione's letter did not shed any light on what might be in the box she had sent, so there was nothing for it except to open the box. Harry opened the box with a pair of scissors on his desk. After digging through an endless pile of Styrofoam peanuts Harry pulled out...a set of robes. 'Wow' was all Harry could think. Hermione had bought Harry a new set of Quidditch robes. 'Hermione was right. These will be useful and I will enjoy them,' Harry thought. His current set of robes was both rather short and quite threadbare after three seasons of hard use. Harry really wanted to try them on, but looking at his new pocket watch, he decided he'd better get dressed and make an appearance downstairs. He didn't want to give the Dursleys any reason to be cruel or unusual with him.

Fortunately for Harry, the Dursleys seemed to be on their best behavior the next two days. His time at Privet Drive passed quietly, and it wasn't long before he found himself on the Knight Bus, headed to the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. The Weasleys lived in a rambling house known as the Burrow, just outside of the village. Harry was really quite glad that Stan Shunpike, the conductor on duty the last time he had traveled by Knight Bus, was not on duty. Harry was even more glad when the bus arrived, and he stepped down into the late afternoon sun to see Ron, Fred, George, and Ginny Weasley all waiting to meet him.

Fred and George were two years older than Ron and Harry, and identical twins. Whereas Ron was tall and gangly, the twins were only just taller than Harry, and a little stockier, though none of the Weasley men could be truly called stocky. Ginny was a year younger than Ron and Harry and had the same flaming red hair that all of the Weasley family shared. Upon seeing Harry, all four Weasleys grinned and stepped forward to meet him.

"Hey, Harry." Ron shook Harry's hand and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Hi, Ron!" Harry responded, genuinely happy to see his best friend.

"Ah, young Harry," Fred said, somewhat self-importantly, extending a hand to Harry, who without thinking, took it to shake, and received a nasty shock. Both Fred and George burst out in laughter.

"Muggle joke..." George supplied, still giggling.

"Amazing what they think of," Fred finished also giggling. Harry tried his best to look perturbed, but failed miserably. "Good to see the both of you," he said.

"Hiya Harry," Ginny said when Harry turned to her, "it's good to see you again." She smiled, but did not blush. Harry was relieved, as Ginny had had a crush on him for quite some time.

"And you, too, Ginny. Um...how do we get to the Burrow?" Harry said, looking around perplexed.

"Oh, it's just a short walk down the road. Here, let us take your stuff, and off we go," Fred and George said, more or less together.

"Mum's cooking dinner – it should be a good one – and Dad is working yet, so it was only us to come meet you. Hope you're not disappointed," Ron said, slightly anxious, as they headed down the road toward the Burrow.

"Of course not! I was just excited that there was someone to meet me at all, you know," Harry said, grinning. "It's really good to be here."

The rest of the walk to the Burrow was occupied with small talk about what had happened over the summer holidays, and before long everyone was seated around the table at the Burrow, enjoying another of Molly Weasley's home-cooked meals. Fred and George disappeared immediately after dinner to their room, as usual, and Ginny was finishing up an essay on the use of flobberworm venom for treating sores, so Ron and Harry helped Molly Weasley clear the table and clean the kitchen before heading up to Ron's room.

Several hours later, Ron and Harry were engrossed in a discussion about the finer points of Quidditch, when the door to Ron's room opened and Hermione walked in, having arrived just a few minutes earlier via Floo.

"Hermione!" Ron and Harry shouted together, and after a group hug, the three friends talked long into the night until Ron fell asleep mid-sentence. Harry and Hermione just smiled at each other, said goodnight, and went to their respective beds.

The next day Harry awoke to the sound of Ron snoring not so quietly on the other side of the room. He tried to go back to sleep, but couldn't. Giving up, he picked up his pillow and threw it across the room at Ron. The airborne pillow had the intended effect, as Ron sat up and looked around the room wildly. "Bloody hell, what was that!" Ron exclaimed, and then he noticed Harry pretending to be asleep in his bed – with no pillow, facing away from Ron's bed. Quietly, Ron got out of bed, grabbed his pillow, and tiptoed over to Harry. Ron could see Harry trying so hard not to laugh that he was actually shaking. Tapping Harry gently on the shoulder, Ron said, "Good morning there, Harry." Harry, reacting without thinking, flipped over just in time to get a pillow in the face.

"You are so dead!" Harry yelled, and with that exclamation the battle began in earnest. Quite a few minutes later, Harry and Ron were beginning to tire. Harry's timing was once again less than perfect, for as he was just about to nail Ron with a particularly vicious wallop, Hermione opened the door to Ron's room, right in the path of Harry's pillow. Taken completely by surprise, Hermione immediately lost her balance and fell flat on her back. It got very quiet in Ron's room, and Harry and Ron both looked down to see a very angry Hermoine doing her best impression of Snape after having to deal with Neville Longbottom in Potions class.

"Harry James Potter," Hermione said in a voice so quiet it was frightening, "you had better get out of here right this instant, because once I've recovered enough to see straight, so help me Merlin, I'm going to string you up with a cord through your nose and peel your skin off inch by inch."

Ron just laughed as he helped Hermione up. Harry was rooted to the spot, absolutely mortified. "Uh, sorry about that, Hermione," was all Harry could bring himself to say. After Hermione had brushed herself off, she just smiled evilly at Harry, who still found himself unable to move. "No problem, Harry. Just remember, payback's a bitch." Harry believed it.

The ruckus from the pillow fight had woken the rest of the house, and by the time Harry, Ron, and Hermione had made it downstairs breakfast was well underway. Everyone was pretty quiet during the meal, and afterward the three fourth-year Gryffindors went out to the back garden to enjoy the cool morning. They had been admiring the new Rock Maple tree Mr. Weasley had planted when Harry turned to Ron and Hermione and said, "I need to tell you something." Harry's two best friends caught his meaning immediately, and they found a quiet place in the garden to sit down near the back wall where they knew they wouldn't be overheard.

"I received a couple of very strange letters on my birthday – thanks for the presents by the way," Harry began.

"Sure thing, mate," Ron smiled, and then began to frown almost immediately. Hermione just looked curious. "Who were the letters from?" Ron continued.

"Draco Malfoy, and Dumbledore," Harry stated.

"What! That slimy git! Why was he writing you? As if it's not bad enough that he makes our lives a living hell during the school year he has to go and bug you during the holidays!" Ron was turning bright red as he worked up quite a head of steam.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed.

"What? I was talking about Malfoy, not Dumbledore!" Ron was confused.

"You shouldn't talk about people like that, even Draco Malfoy." Hermione looked at Ron, somewhat self-righteously.

"Probably not, at least not after the letter he sent." Harry added cryptically, and then handed the letters to Ron and Hermione to read. They fought over the letters before deciding to read them together. "Read the one from Malfoy first." Harry continued. Several minutes later, having read both letters multiple times, Ron and Hermione were staring at Harry open-mouthed.

"But...what...how..." spluttered Ron.

"Very eloquent, Ronald," Hermione sniffed. "Harry, you don't think this is for real, do you?"

"I didn't until I read the letter from Dumbledore. I don't think it'd be very easy to pull a fast one on him," Harry replied.

Ron seemed to have regained his equilibrium, though he was still very red. "I can't believe that Malfoy would be defecting. This is Malfoy, for Merlin's sake. You saw what he wrote at the bottom. How can he say things like that and be, well, not be evil!"

"I think that if Dumbledore trusts him, then we should do what Dumbledore asks and try to be supportive," Hermione sniffed again. She seemed to be doing that a lot.

"Whatever that means," muttered Harry.

At that point, the conversation ended, as Fred and George joined them. "Now don't you three look like you're plotting something," said Fred.

"I do believe they are, brother mine, but let's leave it for now. We have more important things to discuss," replied George.

"Right you are. Ron, Harry, I don't suppose you two would like to join the two of us and our dear sister for a pick-up game of Quidditch?" Fred asked bracingly.

"Sure thing, let us get our stuff and we'll go," Harry responded for both he and Ron.

"I'm going to go study some Arithmancy," said Hermione. All four of the boys exchanged glances, sighed, and rolled their eyes. Hermione ignored them, and they all went their separate ways.

* * *

Draco Malfoy had only been imprisoned in his room for four days, and he was already starting to get a bad case of cabin fever. The house-elves had been fastidious in bringing him meals on time, but had been equally fastidious in not saying anything to Draco, obviously on orders from Lucius. Even the fact that Draco was generally almost kind to the house-elves counted for nothing apparently. 

Lying on his magnificent mahogany four-poster bed with satin sheets and an eiderdown duvet, Draco crossed his arms, glowered at the ceiling, and harrumphed in frustration. Worse than being imprisoned, worse even than being afraid, Draco Malfoy was bored. Draco thought about the letters he sent. Beyond being worried about whether or not Ivy or his father had discovered the second letter to Dumbledore, he wondered about what would happen because of the few words on a piece of parchment He had no doubt that Dumbledore would at least give Draco the benefit of the doubt long enough to find out his true intentions. He was more worried about the reaction of Harry Potter, and by association the reactions of Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. Had Potter even read the whole letter? Would he believe it, or would he think it a prank or a trap? While Draco had meant what he said in his postscript about not intending to be friends with any of the Golden Trio, he couldn't help but think how much easier it would have been if he and Harry Potter had become friends. In a very remote corner of his brain that even Draco didn't like to acknowledge, he wondered if they still might become friends, and secretly hoped it could be so.

Wondering about whether Harry Potter would think Draco was involved in an evil plot to kill him reminded Draco of an unpleasant thought: he was in fact involved in an evil plot to kill Harry Potter and bring about the return of Lord Voldemort; he needed to rectify _that_ situation immediately, if not sooner. This in turn, led Draco to wonder if Dumbledore had received his second letter, and what, if anything, the headmaster would do about it. It was about that time that the fire in Draco's fireplace mysteriously roared to life, an eerie green color.

Draco propped up on one arm, surprised to see the fire leap up out of nothing, and almost gave an audible gasp when the disembodied head of Albus Dumbledore appeared. Dumbledore smiled. "Ah, there you are my boy, and I'm glad to see you're still in one piece."

Draco thought it strange that given the situation, the headmaster was almost...mirthful, as if he was about to pull a particularly mischievous prank. Draco got up from his bed and moved to stand in front of the fire, subconsciously checking his hair and robes to make sure he was presentable.

"Headmaster, I'm not sure it's safe for us to communicate by Floo," Draco said, trademark Malfoy composure externally while trying not to freak out inside.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Mr. Malfoy, unless you and I have both grossly underestimated your father's and Lord Voldemort's abilities, it's not safe for us to communicate by any method."

"Point taken, sir," was Draco's response.

"Now, your head of House and I have discussed the situation, and we believe it will be best to, er, stage a jailbreak for you, to borrow a muggle phrase. You must pack your things, as Professor Snape will be apparating to Malfoy Manor in approximately four hours with a portkey. He will escort you to where you will be staying for the remainder of the holidays, until you return to school. Will that be sufficient time to pack your things?" Dumbledore explained.

"It should be, given that I have nothing else to do at the moment. However, Professor Dumbledore, you know that it is as impossible to Apparate on the grounds of Malfoy Manor as it is at Hogwarts," Draco replied.

"Well, nearly as impossible, my boy. I happen to know a spell or two that will temporarily displace your father's wards enough to allow Professor Snape to Apparate into your room. However, by displacing those wards, your father will be alerted, so you must be ready to go immediately, and I do mean immediately." Dumbledore was very serious, and Draco knew it.

"I will be ready sir," Draco said.

"Very well. Expect Professor Snape around three in the afternoon." The disembodied head of Albus Dumbledore disappeared, as did the green fire. Draco turned immediately and went to his closet, glad at the prospect of leaving Malfoy Manor, though he realized with some dissatisfaction that he had forgotten to ask the Headmaster where exactly he would be staying. Surely it would not be any worse than being imprisoned in his own room.

By two o'clock Draco had packed his trunks, shrunk them to a more manageable size magically (the wards around Malfoy manor also prevented detection of underage magic), and was pacing around his room. He had already had two close calls, and was quite nervous. Not five minutes after Dumbledore had disappeared from the fireplace, the house elves had brought Draco his lunch quite early. They did not offer an explanation for the early lunch, but Draco had no illusion that they would be reporting anything out of the ordinary to his father. Then, just a few minutes ago, Ivy had come in to tell Draco that he should be prepared to dine with the family that evening. She had smiled her evil smile and left him to his devices, but not before carefully examining the state of the room. After she was gone, Draco sighed, relieved that he had already shrunk his trunks to the size of matchboxes, and that he had been quiet while doing his packing.

Still pacing, Draco thought about where he would be staying the rest of the summer. Professor Dumbledore had not given the slightest indication. He thought if he was lucky, maybe he would be allowed to go straight to Hogwarts. As he thought, he realized that couldn't be right, because Dumbledore had said that Professor Snape would escort him to where he would be staying until he could return to school. He supposed it really didn't matter. He wouldn't be locked up in his room. That made him think of Potter and how Potter had to stay with his muggle relatives every summer. According to what Draco had heard, they treated him pretty badly, and Draco could almost feel a little bit of empathy for Harry Potter for once in his life. Draco shook his head to rid himself of that thought. There was no way he was going to identify himself with Potter.

At five minutes until three, Draco was beginning to get frantic. So many things could go wrong. What if Professor Snape didn't show up? What if his father found out what was going on? What if Dumbledore's spell to drop the wards didn't work? What if Voldemort suddenly showed up and decided to kill Draco? Draco finally forced himself to sit on his bed and wait patiently for Professor Snape. It was only the years of training in "proper behavior" that kept him from chewing his nails in sheer frustration and worry.

Precisely at three o'clock, there was a loud crack in the room, and Severus Snape appeared, wand out. Without preamble he looked at Draco and said, "Ready." It was not a question. Draco nodded and stood, putting his miniaturized trunks in the pocket of his robe. Snape walked over to Draco and pulled an old inkwell out of his pocket. He then set it on Draco's nightstand, pointed his wand at it, and said the spell to turn it into a portkey.

It was just after Snape and Draco had linked arms and Severus was reaching for the portkey that Lucius Malfoy burst into the room with Ivy immediately behind him. Snape hissed, "Expelliarmus!" hoping to knock the wand out of Lucius' hand with a spell, but his aim was bad and the spell went high. The last thing Draco saw before being hit with a stunning spell cast by his sister was Lucius forming the words for the killing curse as he pointed his wand at Snape. It was then that the stunning spell hit him, and he blacked out, unconscious for the duration.

* * *

The morning had passed quickly for Harry, Ron, and Hermione. By the time the four Weasleys plus Harry had tired of Quidditch and Hermione had finished her studying it was lunchtime. The noon meal consisted of sandwiches and pumpkin juice, and by late afternoon it was hot enough that everyone was more or less lounging around the house doing nothing. Mr. Weasley had even come home from work early, citing the fact that he had been putting in way too much overtime lately. The two elder Weasleys were sitting in the living room with Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione talking about school, and what it had been like when Mr.and Mrs. Weasley had been students. 

Ron and Ginny had become quite embarrassed when their parents had started discussing some of their romantic interludes, and were trying and failing to change the subject when there was a sudden pounding on the front door. They all looked at the door, and Mr. Weasley got up to answer it, wand at the ready. The sight that greeted the five of them when Arthur Weasley opened the front door was something Harry knew he would remember to the day he died. There standing at the front door of the Burrow was Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His robe was in tatters, he had several nasty cuts on each leg, and burn marks on his face. He looked barely alive. In his arms was an unconscious and equally bruised Draco Malfoy.

Author's Note: I feel a little bad about the cliffhanger, but not too bad. This sure has been fun to write so far, I hope those of you that have read it have enjoyed it as well. Feel free to drop me a line with suggestions, requests, and feedback - this is a great way for me to refine my writing, and I appreciate input greatly. -TM


	4. Shifting Paradigms

**Authors Note: Hi everyone, here's Chapter 4 for you. Hope you're enjoying the story - I wouldn't really know, as I only have one review (hint, hint - and thanks Minerva!), but since I'm writing this for me, I'll continue to post till it's finished at the rate of about one chapter a week, reviews or not. Feel free to drop me a line with suggestions, requests, criticism, flames, whatever. Thanks for the bandwidth. And now for the long-awaited disclaimer:**

**I don't own them, a whole bunch of other people do. I wish I did. This is for fun, and it's rated K+. No house-elves were harmed in the creation of this work.**

**Chapter 4 – Shifting Paradigms**

Everyone stared in shock at the sight in front of them. Clearly, this was the last thing in the universe any of them had ever expected to see. Molly Weasley came to her senses first. "Well, come on now, get them inside!" She exclaimed. This was just the thing everyone needed to snap out of their shock at seeing Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy appear at their front door in the middle of a lazy summer afternoon seriously injured, and Molly Weasley immediately took charge of the situation. "Ginny, go and floo the Ministry of Magic. No, strike that, go floo the Headmaster. He'll know better how to handle this," Molly said, changing her mind. "Hermione, go and see about getting Percy's room ready for the Professor. Ron, Harry, you two had better go make room for Mr. Malfoy in your room."

"What?" Ron exclaimed, very pale from the strangeness of everything that was happening. "If you think that barmy git is going to be sharing a room with me and Harry, you've gone mental!" Harry said nothing, not knowing what to think about this strange turn of events.

"Ronald Weasley, do not argue with me." Molly was firm, and though Ron blanched, he and Harry turned to their assigned task. Molly turned back to the two figures still just inside the doorway just in time to see Snape stagger and begin to fall, having lost consciousness himself. "Arthur, grab him! Harry, Ron!" Molly yelled back at the boys, who hadn't quite made it out of the room yet as she ran forward to grab the Potions professor and his favored student.

Harry and Ron turned around and saw the adult Weasleys struggling with the two unconscious Slytherins and ran over to assist. The four of them got Snape and Draco situated temporarily on two of the couches in the living room in short order. Having averted the immediate danger, Harry and Ron headed upstairs for the second time, while Molly and Arthur Weasley went to see about tending to Snape's and Draco's wounds. They decided not to revive the pair after they ascertained that they were just knocked out and exhausted and not in any mortal danger from spells or their wounds.

As Harry and Ron climbed the stairs to Ron's room, Ron spoke first. "Bloody hell if Mum thinks Malfoy's sharing a room with us!" He was still rather worked up on that point, apparently. Harry nodded in agreement. "Right. Unfortunately, I'm thinking that we should at least be civil to him, given that's what Dumbledore asked us to do. Even if I don't think it's a great idea either." Harry hoped he hadn't sounded too much like Hermione just then. He chuckled. "Besides, I want to be there when Malfoy wakes up with a bunch of Weasleys plus Harry Potter staring down at him. He's going to have kittens." At that, Ron looked as if all his Christmases had come at once.

They had been straightening Ron's room as they talked. This was no small feat, as Ron's room was generally messy enough even without the added presence of Harry and his belongings. The room looked rather like a small tornado had been making regular appearances. The room had two twin beds - which neither boy made - and piles of clothing were scattered on every available square inch of floor space. The two ancient battered dressers and nightstands were covered in things like sneakoscopes, cards from chocolate frogs, quills, inkwells, and multiple other forms of effluvia collected by teenage boys. The walls of the room were lime green with white trim, a color that clashed horribly with Ron's extensive poster collection of the Chudley Cannons. The Cannons were Ron's favorite Quidditch team, and their color was orange.

About the time the two friends finished "straightening" Ron's room, Fred appeared carrying what looked like a surplus army cot. "Mum sent me up with this. George and I had the bad fortune to hear the ruckus downstairs and stick our heads out of our room at the wrong time. We should have taken a little longer testing our...um...never mind. Forget I said anything," Fred said, and turned and left rather quickly. Harry thought that he would have given half the gold in his bank vault to know what Fred and George had been testing in their room.

Ron appeared to have read Harry's mind. "They're always up to something in there, but I can never figure out what. They've talked about opening a joke shop after finishing school, but Mum doesn't particularly like that idea."

"But that would be brilliant! I bet they could give Zonko's a run for their money," Harry exclaimed.

At that point they were interrupted by the voice of Molly Weasley. "Ron! Harry! Come downstairs and help us get these poor people situated." Harry and Ron both snorted at the idea of either Severus Snape or Draco Malfoy being "poor people" by any stretch of the imagination, but dutifully went downstairs to help.

When they arrived back in the living room, the situation was only slightly less chaotic than it was a half-hour before. Fred and George, having completed their obligations, had disappeared back into their room, but everyone else was in the living room. Harry had to admit that both Snape and Malfoy looked infinitely better than they had. Rather than being cut and bruised and unconscious, they had been healed by Molly and Arthur, and were merely sleeping, covered in multi-colored afghans. Harry was willing to bet that Mrs. Weasley had knitted the afghans herself.

"Have either of them woken up yet?" asked Hermione.

"No, dear, I'm afraid they haven't," was Molly Weasley's response. The four Weasleys, Hermione and Harry continued to sit or stand in silence, watching their patients. Harry wasn't really sure why Mrs. Weasley had asked him and Ron to come down and help, but he didn't say anything about it. After a few minutes, Snape's breathing changed slightly, and he opened his eyes slowly. Arthur Weasley stood up and moved to the side of the couch that Snape was on.

"Severus, how do you feel?" asked Mr. Weasley. The four underage wizards were all a little surprised to hear Mr. Weasley use the professor's Christian name.

Snape ignored the question. "Where is Draco?" he asked somewhat urgently, trying to get up. Mr. Weasley gently pushed Professor Snape back to the couch. "Don't get up just yet, Severus. Young Mr. Malfoy is sleeping on the other couch, and appears to be fine though he has not woken. How do you feel?"

Snape eyed Arthur Weasley unpleasantly. "I have a splitting headache, but beyond that, do not seem any worse for wear. I should return to Hogwarts and report to the Headmaster. Did he consult with you regarding Mr. Malfoy?"

"No he didn't. Well, not until a few minutes ago when I talked to him via Floo and let him know what had transpired here. Mr. Malfoy is to stay with us the rest of the summer?" Mr. Weasley queried.

"What?" yelled Ron, Harry,Hermoine, and Ginny all at the same time. "The rest of the summer?" Ron continued, and Harry thought he heard Ron mutter "bloody hell" under his breath.

Snape glared at the four Gryffindors upon hearing their outburst. "Yes, the Headmaster thought that would be best." Severus came dangerously close to adding his own thoughts on the subject, but refrained.

"I see. That should not present any, ah, difficulties for us. Let's hope the same is true of Mr. Malfoy," Mr. Weasley responded.

Snape snorted at that and tried to rise again. "I shall head back to Hogwarts." This time it was Mrs. Weasley who responded. "I don't think you will this day, Severus. I believe - and the Headmaster concurred - that you should stay here this evening to be sure you have recovered from the...from the trip. We've prepared a room for you upstairs. You will not argue with me in this matter." Mrs. Weasley's tone indicated that she would in fact brook no arguments.

Snape decided this was not a battle he would win. "So be it, although I do this under protest," he said in a most irritated manner.

"Excellent. You should drink this potion, and then we'll move you upstairs to your room," said Mrs. Weasley. Snape looked at her as if he couldn't believe she dared to tell _him_ what potions he should and shouldn't be taking. In the end, he reconsidered and swallowed the potion with a grimace. Harry was sure the grimace was not from the taste of the potion.

"Arthur and I will help you to your room. You four keep an eye on young Mr. Malfoy." Mrs. Weasley admonished as she and her husband helped Snape to his feet. He was still a little shaky, and they slowly exited the room and headed upstairs.

"What was Snape talking about, Malfoy staying here?" Ginny asked as soon as the coast was clear. Harry, Ron, and Hermione quickly filled her in on the situation and the letters, stealing occasional glances at the unconscious form of Draco Malfoy.

"Why did Dumbledore have to pick The Burrow for Malfoy's safe house? Why couldn't he have stayed locked in his room like Harry does every summer?" Ron was whining. Harry secretly agreed, but wasn't going to say so. Hermoine just looked exasperated.

"Don't you see Ron? It was the least likely place for Lucius Malfoy to look, and you know that your Mum and Dad would look after Malfoy, even if they didn't particularly like him. What I can't figure is why your Dad called Professor Snape by his Christian name." Hermione said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.

"But...but...it's Malfoy!" Ron's ability to express himself was once again less than amazing.

"I know, Ron, but Hermione does have a point, and Dumbledore did ask us to be supportive, whatever that means. That doesn't mean we have to be nice to him, we just have to tolerate him, and...er...be there for him if he needs help, I guess," Harry added with a shrug.

"Well, that's all good and well, but we're talking about Draco Malfoy here. I trust him about as far as I can throw him." Ron was not about to give in easily. Harry didn't blame him one bit.

"You know," Ginny mused, looking yet again at Draco, "when he's asleep he almost looks, well, normal. Like he could be a decent human being if he wanted." The other three Gryffindors looked at Ginny. Harry and Hermione had thoughtful expressions on their faces, while Ron just looked scandalized.

It wasn't long before it was time for dinner. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had seen that Snape was sleeping peacefully (the potion they had given him was in fact a sleeping potion), and Mrs. Weasley threw together a quick meal, with some magical help. As they were about to sit down, Harry said, "Er...shouldn't someone stay and watch Malfoy?"

Nobody looked particularly excited about this assignment. "I'm sure he'll be fine, dear," Mrs. Weasley said with a smile. "We won't be long."

"Well, um, I'll just take my plate in there and eat. I'd...er...hate for him to wake up and not have anyone there. You know, in case he needed a drink of water, or something." Harry responded, flushing slightly with embarrassment. He wasn't really sure what possessed him to want to spend dinner with an unconscious Draco Malfoy. He just knew how much he hated waking up alone in the hospital wing – a frightfully common occurrence - and if Dumbledore wanted Harry to try to be nice to Draco Malfoy, Harry was going to do the thing right. Everyone else just looked at Harry like he had fallen out of the stupid tree. Ron was standing there with his mouth hanging open. Not getting any particular response other than that, Harry filled his plate and carried it into the living room, where he sat quietly, eating and thinking.

As Harry thought about everything that had happened that day, he wondered, as he had so many times in the past, what the future would hold. He wasn't really sure why Voldemort had singled him out. More than anything, he wanted to live a quiet, normal life, if there was such a thing as "normal." Harry glanced down at Draco Malfoy and frowned. He really didn't know what normal was, or what it would be like to be normal. Voldemort had made sure of that. Seeing Malfoy reminded Harry once again of the incident on the train before Harry's first year at Hogwarts where he met Draco Malfoy. It had been obvious to Harry that Malfoy only wanted to be Harry's friend because he was Harry Potter, and he was famous. Harry wondered if, even with his apparent change of heart, Malfoy would still be the arrogant little prick he always was. Judging by Malfoy's letter, Harry figured he would. Harry sighed and continued eating, lost in his thoughts of the upcoming year, and how different it was going to be.

After dinner was over, everyone went about their evening business. Mrs. Weasley was in the kitchen, cleaning and cooking. Mr. Weasley had gone upstairs to check on Professor Snape. Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny were all lounging in the living room, chatting idly, and halfway keeping an eye on Draco Malfoy, who was still out like a light. Eventually, as it got late, everyone said their goodnights and wandered off to bed, except for Harry, who remained in the living room. Ron had been the last to leave, and had thrown a "You alright, mate? You've been quiet tonight," at Harry. Harry had responded that he was fine, and he was. Sometimes he just liked to have some time alone with his thoughts.

Mrs. Weasley had still been working in the kitchen even after Ron had gone to bed. Harry awoke suddenly with a start some time later to see Mrs. Weasley standing in the doorway from the kitchen. "Harry, dear, do go to bed." She smiled kindly at him.

"I must have been dozing, but I think I'll stay up just a bit longer in case Malfoy wakes up. I don't know why, but I just feel uncomfortable with the idea of him waking up with no one around." Harry shrugged.

"Well, alright dear, but do try to get some sleep. See you in the morning." Mrs. Weasley walked over and gave Harry a hug, for which he was very grateful. The Dursleys certainly never showed him any kind of affection.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Weasley," Harry responded. He watched her exit the room and head slowly up the stairs. Harry, sitting in a very comfortable armchair, was suddenly quite sleepy again. He looked over at Draco Malfoy as his eyelids slowly closed and thought, "Ginny was right. Lying there unconscious, he does in fact look like he could be a normal boy as well." With that thought, and somewhat against his will, Harry drifted into the pleasant oblivion of slumber.

* * *

Draco returned slowly to consciousness. It was dark now, or so he thought. Were his eyes open? He willed himself to blink. Yes, his eyes were open, so it must be night. But where was he? As he became slowly more aware of his surroundings, he realized that he was not in his bed, or in a bed at all. He seemed to be lying on a couch, and an uncomfortable one at that. His back was rather sore. He also seemed to be covered in an afghan of some kind. But where was he? He lay still, his mind racing, recalling the events that had taken place at Malfoy Manor. It was all a little fuzzy, but he remembered Professor Snape fending off curses from his father and sister. His sister. The thought hit him like a ton of bricks. Ivy had been the one to stun him. He never would have imagined that his own sister would do such a thing. Deep inside he grieved for her, and what he was afraid she might become.

Draco was now fully conscious, at least momentarily. He was still unsure of how he ended up where he was, or even where that might be. He was lying on his back and as he turned his head to look to his right he sucked his breath in involuntarily. Potter. Potter was sitting in a ratty looking chair on the other side of the room, fast asleep. His hair, as usual, was everywhere. One arm was across his chest, the other dangling loose off the side of the chair, and he was snoring slightly. What was _he _doing here? Draco felt some of the old anger rise up in him, and other emotions as well. He turned back, stared at the ceiling, and sighed. Like Harry had earlier that evening, he thought about his past and wondered what the future would hold. It was quite some time before sleep claimed him again.

As was his custom, Draco awoke early. The sun was just barely beginning to stream through the sheer-curtained living room windows, giving the room a soft, yellowish look. Draco lay on the couch, still sore from the hasty departure from his home. He stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, not really thinking of anything, and then remembered that he had woken up in the night and discovered Potter asleep in the recliner on the other side of the room. Draco slowly turned his head to his right as he done the night before. A pair of intense green eyes was calmly looking at him. Draco stared back with his own sea-gray eyes. 'The bloody Boy-Who-Lived would be sitting in a chair watching to make sure I'm OK' thought Draco, very irritated at the thought. He took a moment to assess Potter's body language. He didn't seem angry or anxious or...anything, really. Another look at Potter's face told Draco that Potter was merely waiting. Draco began to affix his patented sneer to his face, but thought better of it.

Harry had been watching Malfoy for just a couple of minutes when Malfoy woke up. 'I'm glad I was here,' thought Harry. 'But now what?' Here he was sitting less than 5 feet from his second-worst enemy in the whole world; the one person who had treated him and his friends like less-than-dirt for the last three years. What was he supposed to do? What should he say? It was bad enough that Harry had seen Malfoy carried in unconscious by Snape, but to know also that Malfoy wanted to have nothing to do with Voldemort or Lucius Malfoy made the situation even more awkward in Harry's mind.

The two boys watched each other for several minutes, each wearing poker faces that would have made a professional gambler sweat. Surprisingly, it was Harry that spoke first. "Malfoy, do you need anything? Are you thirsty?"

Draco had planned to respond with a snide remark, but found that he was in fact thirsty. He croaked out a very terse, dry "yes" and Harry nodded and went to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. Harry returned a moment later and handed the glass to Draco, who drank the water rather eagerly. After he had finished the water, he set the glass down on the end table next to the sofa. After a moment of hesitation, unease clear on his face, Draco muttered, "Thanks, Potter."

"No problem, Malfoy," responded Harry. They sat in silence watching each other once more.

Though Draco did not like to admit it to himself, and certainly would never admit it to Potter, he was secretly glad that Potter had been there when he had woken up this morning. He was even more glad that Potter had been there last night, even if he was asleep. It would have been even more disconcerting had he been completely alone, and of all the people who might have been present at Draco's awakening, Potter was the most surprising, and the most welcome. Draco wasn't entirely sure what had possessed him to send the owl to Potter, but he knew somehow that the Gryffindor would help. Draco hated relying on such illogical and emotional things such as hunches, but in the end he had, and so it was fitting that Potter was present now.

Harry was speaking again. "Malfoy, if you're OK for the moment, I'm going to go tell Mrs. Weasley that you're awake. I imagine Professor Snape will want to know as well." Harry got up and left the room, his mind reeling. Draco Malfoy had woken up and had even been polite. Harry was trying his best to act similarly, but was finding it difficult. He didn't know exactly what was going on with his erstwhile arch-rival, but knew he would find out eventually. In the meantime, he would comply with Headmaster Dumbledore's wishes, and with his own sense of the "right thing to do."

For his part, Draco was flabbergasted. _Mrs. Weasley!_ Surely he was not at the Weasley house! How...intolerable! The very thought of the fact that he had been and was currently at the residence of the most muggle-loving pureblood wizard family in existence, and a poor one at that, made him nauseous. He was afraid he was going to vomit right there on the couch, and began looking frantically for a pail, rubbish bin, anything to be sick in. 'Well, that would explain why Potter is here, and father will never look for me here, that's for certain,' he thought. His nausea subsided slightly. He had a feeling this was only the beginning of a very different life and set of circumstances for him. Many of the things he had been taught and raised to believe would no longer be of value, and Draco thought that he had better get used to it.

Draco was still lying on the couch a couple of minutes later when Harry returned with Mrs. Weasley. "Oh, Mister Malfoy, how do you feel this morning?" Mrs. Weasley looked positively distraught over Draco's condition, apparently forgetting that Weasleys and Malfoys had never seen eye to eye on anything.

Draco flinched, afraid that Mrs. Weasley was going to fawn all over him, but managed to answer, "Just fine, Mrs. Weasley. A little sore perhaps." He paused for a moment, and then with a grimace, managed to add, "Thank you for asking." Harry stifled a giggle which earned him a glare from Draco.

"Well, you just stay right there. I'm sure Harry would be glad to bring you your breakfast," Mrs. Weasley added with a very tender look at Draco. This time it was Draco's turn to giggle. Harry simply stood there mouth open.

"That will be fine. Potter, do see that you don't screw it up," Draco said to Harry in a most condescending manner. Harry fumed and stormed out of the living room to see about Draco's breakfast, muttering something about "blasted Slytherins" under his breath.

Harry returned in a few minutes carrying a tray with Draco's breakfast of eggs, toast, sausages, tea and baked beans. Draco surveyed the spread and sighed. The breakfast was not quite what Draco was used to, but then again the Burrow was not Malfoy Manor, and the Weasleys were not the Malfoys, either in social status or economic means. He figured he should be thankful that he was not having to kiss the hem of Voldemort's robe for breakfast, and so he began to eat without complaining.

All of the other members of the household studiously avoided Draco during breakfast, but shortly after, Professor Snape came in to see how Draco was doing. "Ah, Mr. Malfoy, it is good to see you're awake. You are feeling well this morning?" Snape queried in his oily voice. Draco thought that the Potions professor seemed genuinely relieved to find him in one piece.

"Yes, Professor, even if I did have to spend the night on a sofa in the Weasley house with Potter watching me," Draco responded disdainfully.

"Yes, well, the Headmaster felt it was the safest place for you." It was obvious that Snape disagreed. "You can address the issue with him when he arrives this afternoon to speak with you at length. Now, I must be going. I do not need to stress that even though this situation is far from preferable, it is safest for you, and you will behave in a manner that does not bring dishonor to your House." With that thinly veiled threat, Snape disapparated with a crack, leaving Draco to consider the implications of disobeying his Head of House.

* * *

For Ivy, life at Malfoy Manor had been pure hell since Draco's escape. Her mother Narcissa had been imprisoned much as Draco had, and Ivy had heard her father screaming awful things at Narcissa all the way from Ivy's bedroom at the other end of the manor. She was unable to make out most of what Lucius had been saying to her, but she had distinctly heard him threaten to place Narcissa under the Imperius curse if he ever discovered her having any kind of contact with Draco again. Lucius himself had been even worse. Apparently, he had to make a report to the Dark Lord, explaining why his son was defecting. Lucius had returned from that fun little get-together in a rage like Ivy had never seen. He had apparated back to the manor and immediately began throwing things, not magically, but with his bare hands, cursing the whole time. It was the first time Ivy had truly been afraid of her father.

Ivy's world had come crashing down completely when she discovered Draco had been communicating secretly with Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore. She and Draco had always been very close. They were careful not to display this in public, and only to a limited extent around their parents, but the fact of the matter was that Ivy and Draco loved each other very much and shared everything. At least, that's what Ivy had thought until she discovered Draco secretly sending owls. She couldn't decide if she was more hurt that Draco had decided to go against everything their father stood for, or that he hadn't included Ivy in his plans. It had been a very natural thing, therefore, for her to go to her father and tell him what she had discovered.

Ivy had been so proud when her father had praised her, and she felt even better when he included her in his plans to keep Draco in line. The discovery of Draco's continued correspondence had earned Ivy even more praise from her father, and that was something rare these days. It had bothered her not one bit to stun her brother, though she did feel a slight twinge of guilt at the look on Draco's face when he saw who had sent the curse that stunned him, but Ivy figured it was for Draco's own good. Surely father was right, and Draco was merely confused about what was really important.

Now, in the aftermath, Ivy began to feel doubt gnawing at her. She had cursed her brother! Draco had always been the one to truly love her and care for her, even when their father would not and their mother could not. She had cursed him, and she had seen the look of hurt on his face before he was knocked unconscious. She had been equally surprised to her father utter a killing curse at Professor Snape.

Ivy had been spending all her spare time, except for mealtimes, in her room. It struck her as ironic that though she was not being held there except by her own will, she was enduring very much the same fate that Draco had endured. As another day in the hell that was Malfoy Manor ended for Ivy Malfoy, she wondered about her mother, her father – and the monster he had become – and whether she had really done the right thing. Mostly she wondered about her brother, and if he was alright. She missed him terribly, and was afraid that she had lost him forever.


	5. Detente

Authors Note: Hi everyone - sorry for the late posting, my beta reader made me completely revise this chapter, but she does a wonderful job, so I think it's worth the wait. As always, any kind of feedback is appreciated, and I'll commit to responding to you personally. And now for the disclaimer:

This is a work of fiction for entertainment purposes only. I don't own these characters, a whole bunch of other people who are far richer than I am do. No copyright infringement is intended or implied. This is rated 'K+' for mild language, and implied violence. No Weasleys were permanently damaged in the creation of this work, although Ron's ego took a beating. 

Chapter 5 – Detente

By the time Albus Dumbledore appeared at the Burrow shortly after lunch, an uneasy silence had settled over the house. Draco had kept to himself most of the morning, apparently lost in thought, and the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione had not tried to draw him out. They all assumed that Draco would talk when and if he felt the need. For his part, Draco was glad that everyone left him alone. It wasn't so much that he needed time to think, because he wasn't really thinking, at least not consciously. He knew that he was processing in the back of his head everything that had happened over the last few days, and the last 24 hours in particular, but he wasn't consciously thinking about it. That was probably a good thing. Every time he began to consider all the implications of his decision to disobey his father and Lord Voldemort, and what his life would most likely be like in the near future, he began to get slightly anxious. 'That's an understatement,' Draco thought. 'More like you're about one step away from soiling yourself. Get a grip. You're a Malfoy. You can handle this. It won't do anyone any good, least of all you, to start blubbering like a barmy Hufflepuff.' Part of the problem, Draco realized, was that blubbering like a barmy Hufflepuff was exactly what he wanted to do, but nearly-fourteen-year-old boys did not cry, especially not ones named Draco Malfoy.

Because of his subconscious preoccupation, Draco had not really noticed his surroundings. He had been vaguely aware of everyone giving him room, and their concerned or confused glances in his direction, except for Ron Weasley, who Draco noted had glared at him in a distinctly hostile manner. Even Granger had looked at him more with concern than anything else, a fact which surprised Draco greatly. By the time lunch had been announced, Draco had emerged from his quasi-trance enough to join everyone else at the table for the meal. It had still been unnaturally quiet, and Draco had not spoken at all. He did note that the house was well-kept, if too cluttered, and the condition of most of the furnishings, especially in the kitchen, was what Draco euphemistically referred to as "well-used." The noon meal had been sandwiches, and Draco managed to eat his lunch without thinking too much about the fine repasts always served at what used to be his home in Wiltshire.

Draco had been sitting in the living room staring into space yet again when the doorbell rang. Mr. Weasley answered it; he was home from work, as it was Saturday. "Well, good afternoon, Headmaster! Do come in!" exclaimed Mr. Weasley.

"Arthur, so good to see you. How are things at the Ministry?" asked Dumbledore as he entered the Weasley home and removed his tall pointed wizard's hat.

"Well, the same as always I suppose. Half the Ministry is gone looking for Sirius Black. They got a whiff he made an appearance over in the colonies...I mean the United States. Southern California or someplace like that." Mr. Weasley replied with a wink and a shrug.

"I see...well, they'll have a time finding him there. I have heard that most people in that part of the world are...well...if you'll pardon the colloquialism...stark raving mad," said Dumbledore with a gleam in his eyes.

"Quite right, Headmaster. Just the other day I was commenting to Perkins that it's amazing those bloody Americans ever managed to break away from us." Perkins was the warlock that worked in Mr. Weasley's department – Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. "I suppose you'd like to talk to Mr. Malfoy. Would you care for a cup of tea?" asked Mr. Weasley, then he leaned closer to the Headmaster and whispered, "I'm not entirely convinced he is alright, sir. He's been acting rather distracted this morning. You'll find him in the living room."

Dumbledore merely nodded, and headed into the living room and sat down on the couch across from Draco, who did not really seem to notice the Headmaster's presence. Mrs. Weasley appeared a couple of minutes later with tea for Draco and Dumbledore, then returned to the kitchen.

Dumbledore began. "Well, Mr. Malfoy, I am glad to see you are here in one piece. I do hope you have found everything acceptable?" The corner of the Headmaster's mouth twitched up in a smile.

Draco looked at Dumbledore for the first time, glaring slightly, "Well, I wouldn't say acceptable, but I suppose that under the circumstances, it is the best that can be expected," Draco said, fidgeting just the tiniest bit.

Dumbledore chose to ignore Draco's implied insult. "Professor Snape has filled me in on the particulars of what transpired at Malfoy Manor. I am here primarily to make sure you are well-cared for, but while I had hoped you and I could converse at our leisure about our correspondence once the fall term resumed, I think the best time for that may in fact be now," Dumbledore continued smoothly. "I wonder if I might call Mr. Potter in here for a few minutes?"

Draco gave Dumbledore his signature glare again, then nodded. Dumbledore merely looked toward the kitchen, smiling, and as if by magic, Harry appeared through the doorway, blushing, and he sat down in the armchair he had slept in the night before. It occurred to Draco that Harry had been listening in on their conversation from the other room. Surprisingly, it only made Draco somewhat angry rather than downright hacked off.

"Mr. Malfoy, why don't you begin by telling us about what made you send both Mr. Potter and myself the letters," Dumbledore gently urged Draco.

Draco took a deep breath and began, "I don't know exactly when I came to the realization that my father was no longer the person I remembered from when I was little. You know, before the Dark Lo...I mean V-Vold...that is, You-Know-Who began to make efforts to return after, well, after Potter, er, defeated him twelve years ago."

Dumbledore nodded encouragingly at Draco. Harry just sat there in shock. He never imagined that Draco Malfoy, his arch-rival, whom he had punched in a fit of rage last year would be sitting across from him talking about his family life. Harry could barely even comprehend the fact that he was witnessing Draco Malfoy having trouble controlling his emotions. Malfoy didn't _have _emotions, much less did he have difficulty controlling them. Draco was continuing. "I suppose things got really bad about the time I started Hogwarts. Father was always very excited about things happening with You-Know-Who, and I began to see that my father was really evil. I didn't think much about it then, especially because that's when Potter and I had our first little meeting." Draco glanced up at Harry at this. Harry noted that Draco didn't really seem angry, just hurt. That surprised Harry more than anything he had heard yet. "After Potter refused my offer of friendship, preferring to associate with _Weasley,_" Harry stiffened, ready to defend his best friend. "I was so angry, and yes, I can admit it, hurt, that I would have signed up to be a Death Eater right then if only it meant I could get back at Potter." There was much bitterness in Draco's voice now. "It was like a game, I guess. It was only after second year, when the Chamber of Secrets had been opened, that I realized this was really happening, and that people were being hurt and killed. My father is in the thick of it, and my mother and I don't want to have anything to do with it. I'll never have my real father back, but that doesn't mean I have to be like him." Draco was quieter and calmer now; he seemed determined.

Harry found himself on uncertain ground. He wanted to believe the words coming out of Draco Malfoy's mouth, but he was finding it difficult. One of Harry's many good qualities as a person, and one of the prime reasons the Sorting Hat had placed him in Gryffindor house was the fact that Harry had an immense capacity to overlook other people's foibles and mistakes, and to forgive easily. If you told Harry this, he would become embarrassed and make a joke to brush off the compliment but it was true. This was how Harry was feeling now. He wanted to forgive Draco Malfoy, and to help him, but something held him back. 

"What's the matter, Potter? Find it hard to believe I don't want to end up like my Father? I'd think you'd understand that. I can't imagine you want to end up like your father either, given that he's dead." Harry knew that Malfoy had probably spoken out of hurt more than anything else, but it was that kind of comment that reminded Harry that even though Malfoy might not want to be a Death Eater, there was still much bad blood between the darling child of Slytherin House and the Boy-Who-Lived.

"What is Lucius' plan?" asked Dumbledore very quietly, steering the conversation back to the topic at hand.

Draco's features clouded slightly. Harry would have sworn that Malfoy was fighting back tears if he had thought that Malfoy was capable of such an emotion. "I can't really say what my father's plan is now that I've escaped. Before, my father apparently had some instruction from V-V-, oh bloody hell, You-Know-Who. They were going to use my intent to "switch sides" as a plot to kill Potter. I was supposed to ingratiate myself to you Headmaster, and to Potter. When my father sent word I was supposed to kidnap Potter and take him to my father, who would turn him over to You-Know-Who to be tortured and killed. I believe Potter may have some part to play in bringing You-Know-Who back to corporeal form before he is killed. If I did not comply with my father's wishes, he was going to place me under the Imperius curse and force me to kill my mother, taking several days to accomplish the deed, and then my father would turn me over to You-Know-Who to do what he would with me." Draco recited all of this information in a dead, hollow voice, looking at his feet again the entire time. When he did look up at the silence that was the response to this latest revelation, Harry could tell Draco was putting a strong face on everything.

Suddenly, and without further prompting, Draco continued, "The worst part is that my sister Ivy seems to be completely in agreement with my father on all this. She was the one who found the letters, and then knocked me unconscious when Professor Snape came to collect me. We were always close, but we never discussed this. I don't know what's happened to her, or what she's thinking." Draco, to his credit, kept his calm and glared defiantly at Harry, daring him to say a word.

Draco was fighting to maintain control of his emotions. All of his upbringing told him it would be disastrous to lose control of himself in front of Potter and the Headmaster. It would give them leverage over him, and that was unacceptable. Unfortunately, the very thing he wanted most was to let down his barriers and be a normal boy, just for a while. He didn't want to be a Malfoy; he just wanted to be plain Draco. In part of his head, Draco hated himself for telling all these things to Potter and Dumbledore, but the part of his head that hadn't been ruined by years of Lucius Malfoy's upbringing knew that Draco was doing the right thing.

For not the first time that day, Harry was shocked into inaction. Not only had Draco Malfoy decided that being an evil wizard was wrong, he had seen fit to share intimate details about his life with Harry, and Dumbledore. Harry felt very overwhelmed by the whole situation. Draco Malfoy was not a cold, cruel, emotionless future evil wizard in service of Lord Voldemort. At this moment, Draco Malfoy was merely a scared almost-fourteen-year-old boy whose family had deserted him. He was alone and uncertain and fearful. Harry understood all of those feelings very well. He just wished that Malfoy was not continuing to act in the same obnoxious manner he had since the day that Draco and Harry had met.

Draco had obviously nearly talked himself out. As Harry stood to leave, Draco let fly with his parting shot: "Bet that made your day, Potter. Finally got to see Draco Malfoy wallowing in fear and doubt," Draco said spitefully. Even as he said it Draco regretted the words. There was no malice in Harry Potter's eyes. Harry sighed and replied sadly, "No Malfoy, that did not make my day. I would not have wished these things upon even you, Malfoy. Not even upon you." Harry then turned to Dumbledore and said, "I suppose I should go fill in Ron and Hermione, sir." Dumbledore nodded and said, "Yes, I believe that would be best Harry. I'm going to spend another couple of minutes with Mr. Malfoy here, and then I need to speak to Arthur and Molly."

"Yes sir. See you at school, then." Harry turned and gave one last look at Draco who met his stare levelly, and then headed out to the back yard where Ron and Hermione were sitting in a couple of chairs, lazing in the afternoon sun. Upon seeing Harry approach, Ron and Hermione stopped their conversation. Harry noted with slight amusement that they had been holding hands, but had quickly let go when Harry walked up. Ron was blushing, but Harry decided not to say anything about it as he approached. "Where've you been, mate?" said Ron in a rather high-pitched voice, and clearing his throat.

Harry ignored Ron's question for the moment. "Hope I wasn't interrupting anything," he said instead, with a grin. Hermione rolled her eyes while Ron made some unintelligible noises in his throat and flushed red all the way up to the roots of his hair. "Anyway," Harry continued, "I was just talking with Malfoy and Professor Dumbledore."

Ron and Hermione were all ears. "I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it for myself." Harry told his two best friends about Draco sharing his childhood and why he chose to defect. When he started to describe the plot that Lucius was forcing Draco to take part in, Ron yelled, "I knew it! He's just doing this to kill you, Harry! He hasn't really changed sides at all. He's double-crossing his double-cross just to cover his tracks!" Ron was still yelling, and Harry was a little afraid that Draco would overhear. He wasn't exactly sure why that worried him.

"Ron, I don't think that even Malfoy is that clever," Hermione interjected. Then she reconsidered. "Well, actually he is, but I just don't think he's being deceitful. Call it women's intuition or something," she said, waving her hands vaguely in the air.

"I think so, Hermione, especially after what he told us next." Harry continued. "Malfoy started talking about his sister Ivy. Apparently, they're a lot closer than they act at school, and Ivy's the one that stunned Malfoy when he and Snape were escaping from Malfoy Manor. Malfoy was really upset about his sister. Seems to think she's going to turn evil or something."

"Malfoy? Upset?" Ron was incredulous. "I didn't think Malfoy could get upset. Well, it's about time he got something he actually deserved. After all these years of insulting you for not having a family he's finally seeing what it's like!"

"Ron! How horrible!" Hermione was scandalized.

"Ron's got a bit of a point, Hermione, and besides, Malfoy's still acting like a prick." Harry said, running his hand through his hair distractedly.

"Well, really, Harry, how would you be acting if your father threatened to make you kill your mother if you didn't agree to serve some evil wizard, and then he locked you in your room for the rest of the summer, so you escape, and get taken to the house of one of your worst enemies – sorry, Ron – where you have to tell the whole story to the Headmaster of your school and his favorite student, who also just happens to be the only person who's ever managed to not get killed by the same evil wizard you're supposed to be serving?" Hermione reasoned.

"I'm not Dumbledore's favorite student!" Harry looked shocked.

"That's not the point, Harry. The point is that Malfoy's in a tight spot, and Dumbledore seems to think he's sincere, and needs our help, so I think we should go along with it," Hermione said, in a rather exasperated tone.

"I'm with Harry!" Ron put in his two cents. "Malfoy's a git and I trust him about as far as I can throw him."

"Do you think maybe we should at least talk to him?" Hermione responded. Ron and Harry looked like they both wanted to say 'no' even though Harry felt internally that it was probably the right thing to do.

"Fine." Harry sighed.

"You two go right ahead. I don't think I want any part of it," Ron voiced his opinion.

"Oh no, Ronald, you're going with us. We have to show a united front. And besides, Harry and I are your best friends, and you want to be supportive, don't you?" Hermione asked, batting her eyes at Ron seductively.

"Um, yeah, Herm. Whatever you say," Ron said vaguely, clearly distracted by Hermione's feminine charms. Together the three Gryffindors set off to find their erstwhile rival from Slytherin house.

The three best friends found Draco Malfoy still sitting in the living room, alone. 'He sure is sitting in here staring at nothing an awful lot,' thought Harry with a frown. The three of them sat down together on the couch across from Draco who looked up at them with a sneer. 'Here goes nothing, I should at least try to be polite I suppose,' thought Harry.

"Couldn't wait to spill the beans could you, Potter. 'Malfoy's a softie – can't hardly keep from crying.' Come to gloat about it have you Weasel?" Draco snarled in their direction.

Ron immediately began to build up a head of steam at being called 'Weasel'. "Look here, Malfoy. I'm even less thrilled about this than you are, and as far as I'm concerned the only reason we're even putting up with you is because Dumbledore asked Harry to, and I always stick by Harry, no matter what. Or hadn't you figured that out by now?"

Draco looked like he had swallowed a dog-urine-flavored Every Flavor Bean, and Harry was half-afraid he was going to have to try and avert an all-out war between Malfoy and Ron. Draco, however, decided that he had better count his blessings, for unless he was mistaken, he now had three people on his side, even if it was only because the headmaster had asked them to be on his side. The Slytherin part of his brain reminded him that frankly, he could not have picked three more powerful students within the realm of Hogwarts to ally himself with had he been given a choice, so, though he might not like The Golden Trio of Gryffindor very much, the situation could have its advantages.

"Fine. I suppose that goes for the Mudblood here, too." This time Harry wasn't just half-afraid he was going to have to stop a war, he was fully afraid of it. He couldn't believe that Malfoy had just called Hermione a Mudblood to her face, in the Weasley's living room of all places! Harry risked a glance at Ron, who was reaching for his wand. 'Oh no,' Harry thought, 'not the slugs again.' He remembered the last time Ron had tried to hex Malfoy. Ron's curse had backfired leaving Ron throwing up slugs for the better part of a day. Hermione surprised all three of the boys by putting a hand on Ron's arm to stop him. She looked defiantly at Draco.

"You bet it does Malfoy," Hermione said, staring Draco directly in the eyes. "And if you ever call me that again, Ron won't have to hex you, because I'm going to do things to you that will make whatever You-Know-Who had in mind look like a warm-up act." Then in a much kinder voice she added, "We may be having trouble accepting the fact that you're sincere in all this Malfoy, but I do recognize that you're under a lot of stress at the moment, and that everything is in turmoil, so for a start can we at least try to be civil to each other?"

Ron, Harry, and Draco all stared at Hermione open-mouthed. Ron said what they were all thinking, in his usual explosive manner: "You mean you want us to be nice to this git?" At that comment, Draco bristled, and Harry could have sworn he heard a growl coming from Draco.

"Well, more or less," Hermione temporized. "It certainly doesn't mean that Malfoy is my new best friend. In fact, I still don't like him a bit, but I am willing to give him a chance."

For his part, Draco was still in shock, though he had recovered his senses enough to appear unruffled, in true Malfoy fashion. He had fully expected Potter to use Draco's current emotional state to his advantage, but Potter had passed up that opportunity. He found Granger's attitude toward him somewhat disturbing. As mean and cruel as he had been to Granger, she still seemed willing to at least give him a second chance. Even more amazing to Draco was the fact that while Potty and the Weasel hadn't been as forthright or forgiving as Granger, they seemed relatively willing to give Draco a second chance as well. As he thought about that, for the first time, Draco found himself seeing a friendship that was not based on superiority or power, but on true mutual esteem and affection. Draco found himself thinking that it would be nice to have a friendship like that. It felt more genuine and more real somehow. Clearing his head of that un-Malfoyish thought, Draco realized that the Golden Boy and his two faithful sidekicks were staring at him a little strangely. He had been lost in thought, and had been silent too long.

"Well," Draco drawled. He thought he should at least be civil. "I suppose I should be grateful for this...unexpected show of solidarity. Not that I asked for it. Please spare me the lovey-dovey Gryffindor drivel though, would you? I can do without it, thank you very much."

"Actually, Malfoy," Harry said coldly. "You did ask for it when you sent me that letter, and if you know what's good for you, you'll leave the spoiled, rich, holier-than-thou, pureblood bastard attitude at the door. Got it?"

Draco just glared at Harry, but said nothing. Harry stood there looking at Draco with his arms crossed. Hermione got the distinct impression that maybe it would be best to change the subject slightly, as there was one other thing she wanted to discuss. "Um...what are you going to do about all this once you get back to Hogwarts?" Hermione asked.

"What do you mean?" Draco wasn't sure what Hermione was referring to. Harry and Ron were equally confused.

"Well, Malfoy, everyone's going to know that you've switched sides, especially if you're seen with the three of us and we're not trying to kill each other, as much as we might like to be."

"She's got a point," Harry conceded, still somewhat upset at Draco.

"Dumbledore and I talked about it a bit." Draco said with a frown. "Initially, we thought it best that I play along with Lucius' plan, but now that I've escaped, it's all going to depend on how my father is handling the situation. I'm pretty sure it's not going to be a lot of fun." Draco sighed.

"This is going to be really confusing." Ron interjected.

"Like you're not always confused, Weasley," Draco retorted.

Harry chose to ignore Malfoy's insult on his best friend in the interest of having a civil conversation, though he did have to will himself to unclench his fists. "So, what you're saying is that Dumbledore wants you to pretend to the Slytherins that you're just trying to get in our good graces to help out the Death Eater cause, but you really aren't. You've actually decided to switch sides, and so you'll be acting the part for the Slytherins, but not for us."

"Right. Hopefully that will work unless we find out that my father's spread the word since I escaped. Dumbledore also thought it best that I not be seen in public until school starts. Some rubbish about it being for my own protection." Draco was pouting - something he seemed to do very well.

"I just hope that everyone buys it." Hermione said.

"We'll just have to see how it goes, I guess." Harry said with a shrug. Everyone else agreed. They all thought it was strange that they were all able to have a civil conversation, even if it was somewhat strained.

* * *

The remainder of the time at the Burrow passed quickly, but not quick enough. The three Gryffindors and Draco quickly developed an uneasy detente. For his part Draco realized that he was essentially a guest in someone's home, even if he didn't particularly like it. As such, he was polite to the adult Weasleys, and tried his best to be civil to everyone else. He spent a lot of time working on various Potions assignments, or just sitting quietly, thinking. Everyone gave him plenty of space, still assuming that he needed to deal with a lot, and needed to do so in his own way. Ron, Harry and Hermione could not have been accused of being kind to Draco, though Hermione tried, but they were understanding. 

Ron and Harry had continued to protest about having to share Ron's room with Draco. Percy had come back home from his assignment for the ministry, so his bedroom wasn't available as it had been with Professor Snape. Sharing a bedroom with Draco was truly an awful experience. The first day Draco had been in the room he had ordered Ron and Harry around like servants, picking things up and straightening them. When he saw the cot he would be sleeping on, his face had curled in disgust and he absolutely refused to sleep on "that piece of leftover camping gear from the dark ages." Harry and Ron had flatly refused to surrender their beds, Harry angrily stating, "I would have killed for that cot, Malfoy, when I was at the Dursley's, and if I can sleep on the floor for eleven years, surely you're capable of sleeping on a cot for a month. Or are you too soft?" Draco had looked like he was ready to piss fire, but seeing Ron ready to back Harry up, decided he didn't like the odds of that fight, so he had most ungraciously accepted the cot, muttering, "Those bloody sorry excuses for _beds_ are probably lumpier than a trolls skull anyway."

Draco apparently had not realized that Harry routinely had trouble sleeping. Later that week, Harry was lying awake in bed, his scar prickling, when he heard a sound coming from Draco's corner of the very crowded room. Ron was snoring soundly, as he always did, but the sound coming from Draco was quite different. Harry didn't dare get out of bed, but strained his ears to listen to the noise. He realized that Draco Malfoy was crying quietly into his pillow. Harry, now wide awake, turned over in bed, and the crying stopped immediately. Harry said nothing about it to Draco – some things were simply too private to discuss unless the person brought it up – but he thought about what he had heard for a long time before finally drifting off to sleep uneasily.

About a week before the fall term started at Hogwarts, Mrs. Weasley indicated that everyone would be making a trip to Diagon Alley to pick up their things for the school year. As Professor Dumbledore had made it very clear that Draco was not to leave the Burrow, it fell to Ron, Harry, and Hermione to pick up his supplies. It was unclear who was less happy about this arrangement – the three Gryffindors or Draco Malfoy.

"Listen here, Potter. This is a list of everything I need." Draco handed Harry a roll of parchment about 2 feet long.

"You've got to be out of your bloody mind, Malfoy!" Ron exclaimed.

"Language, Weasley," Draco retorted with a sneer. "And I expect to see receipts for everything, and you'd better believe I'll be counting my money when you're done, because I'd hate for Weasley to nick some of it. Merlin's knows how he'd figure out what to do with it." Ron turned a nasty shade of red, but Hermione's hand on his arm kept him from completely losing it.

"It's not worth it, Ron. Just leave him be." She whispered.

"Now you three have fun, I think I'll just relax in the garden and enjoy a nice cup of tea." Draco waved them off, as Mrs. Weasley had been calling for them to hurry up.

"If You-Know-Who and Lucius Malfoy don't kill that nasty little blighter, I'm going to," Ron said through gritted teeth as they headed for the fireplace to floo to Diagon Alley.

"Too right," Harry agreed. Hermione, surprisingly, nodded in agreement. Of the three Gryffindors, she had been the kindest to Draco, though the effort had been mostly wasted.

Diagon Alley had been a nightmare, especially getting all the things on Draco's list. Harry suspected that some of the stuff on there had been merely to make the trip as difficult as possible for The Golden Trio. By the time they got back to the Burrow, it was nearly dark. Draco Malfoy had looked over the results of the trip and muttered, "I suppose this will do." It had taken all of Harry's self control not to hex Malfoy into an alternate dimension right on the spot.

The next day, everyone was sitting down to breakfast when a very large and colorful toucan arrived with the morning post. It had a letter and a brown paper package with Harry's name on it. Harry opened the card first:

_Dear Harry,_

_I hope this finds you well. With luck you're at the Burrow by now, and I'm sorry I'm so late in getting this to you, but as you probably guessed from the bird, it would have been quite a feat for me to have this to you by your birthday. If you're reading this where Arthur and Molly Weasley are around, you might wait until you have a chance to be by yourself to open the package. It's not a big deal, but I just think it might be better. _

_Happy Birthday,_

_Sirius_

Harry was really glad he had finally gotten a letter from his godfather, and a birthday present as well. He had been a bit disappointed when he hadn't heard from him on his birthday, but he knew that Sirius was in hiding, and judging by the toucan, which had already returned for parts unknown, Sirius was in hiding somewhere far, far away.

Harry smiled to himself, and put the package aside for later. He thought it a bit odd that Sirius asked him not to open the package in front of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, but figured that his godfather had his reasons.

"Well, what is it?" asked Ron expectantly. Everyone was looking at Harry and the package with interest, even Draco, who was most definitely not a morning person and was barely coherent by breakfast unless there had been a significant amount of coffee involved. Harry did not understand this because Draco always got up earlier than everybody else, but he chalked it up as one of the many quirks of the other boy.

"It's from...ah, it's from Snuffles." Harry said, casting a glance at Draco who looked more confused than he normally did at that hour of the morning.

"What does it say?" asked Ron with his mouth full of porridge. Harry had to duck to avoid being hit with flying bits of Ron's meal.

"Snuffles just wanted to wish me Happy Birthday." Harry stated, annoyed at having to dodge the flying porridge.

"Well, aren't you going to open the present?" Hermione asked.

Harry threw a significant glance at Ron and Hermione and said, "Um, no I think I'll save it for later." Harry noticed Draco's brow furrow as if he was trying to figure something out, and he was glad that Draco had only had one cup of coffee. He would not be up to his usual Slytherin standard until he'd had at least two more cups of coffee. They all finished breakfast, and as they were getting up from the table Ron and Hermione traded a glance. They grabbed Harry and herded him out to the garden; Harry protesting the entire time. Draco followed slightly behind, nursing a fresh cup of coffee. Ron and Hermione sat Harry down on a bench in the garden and stood over him arms crossed.

"What?" Harry said innocently, not making eye contact.

Draco had caught up with the other three, and elbowed his way into the conversation, glaring.

"Shut it, Potter," Draco said, eyes gleaming. Harry had opened his mouth to say something, but decided to follow Malfoy's advice. "Now, the three of us are going to find out what the card really said, and what's in the package, but first you're going to fill me in on Snuffles."

"Is that so?" Harry said defiantly.

"Yes. I'm a Malfoy, and I always get my way. Now talk," Draco commanded.

"I don't suppose you two are going to back me up on this one are you?" Harry asked his two best friends, who just shook their heads at him, though Hermione looked thoughtful.

"Well, I guess it's OK to tell him about Snuffles. Actually, I don't know that we can trust him, but I don't see that we have a lot of choice in the matter," Hermione said with a frown.

Harry considered this for a moment then sighed. He was not especially happy about having to bring Draco in on this particular secret. "The card really was from Snuffles. He really was wishing me Happy Birthday, but asked me not to open the package in front of Ron's parents, so I don't know what's in it. As far as who Snuffles is, you probably know him better, Malfoy, as Sirius Black." Harry proceeded to relate what had happened at the end of their third year, as Draco already knew that Sirius was Harry's godfather.

"OK, that all makes sense. You always manage to get away with bloody murder. Guess that comes from being Dumbledore's Wonder Boy. Maybe I should just give the Ministry of Magic a little heads up regarding Sirius Black's location?" Draco was rather perturbed about the revelation of what had really happened at the end of their third year.

"You wouldn't dare! If you do I'll stick your blasted Nimbus 2001 where the sun doesn't shine!" Ron yelled, his temper starting to rise yet again.

"Merlin's beard, Ronald! Malfoy _can't _tell the Ministry where Sirius is hiding, because he doesn't know and neither do we," Hermione pointed out.

"Oh." Ron deflated instantly, his ears turning back from bright scarlet to an only slightly less bright red. Draco Malfoy just smirked at Ron, who glared back, embarrassed and not a little angry that Malfoy had got the best of him.

"Um, I guess I should open the package now." Harry said quickly, deciding it would be best to change the subject. He began to remove the wrapper to find a book. It was about 9 inches by 6, and was bound in maroon leather. The title on the cover read, '_Animagi From A to Z: Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Human Transfiguration But Were Afraid to Ask'_

"Oh wow," Harry said, showing the book to the other three. He opened the book and a card fell out. It read:

_Harry-_

_As you might have guessed, this book belonged to your father. Prongs, Wormtail and I used it to learn how to become animagi many years ago. It seems fitting that you should have it, as I'm sure you will find it most useful in your "educational pursuits"._

_-Sirius_

"Wow," Ron said, speaking for all of them.

"Should we have that? Isn't it illegal or something?" Hermione said.

"Probably. Oh well," Ron said with a shrug and a grin.

They looked through the book, scanning the text, and the notes left by the Marauders many years earlier. Suddenly Harry shut the book and looked up at Ron, Draco, and Hermione, his eyes bright. "I think we should try to become animagi," he said.

Hermione gasped, "But Harry, it's not easy or legal. We'd have to be unregistered until we were seventeen."

"My Dad and his friends were able to do it, and I'm sure that we can too. I suppose that since you're here in the middle of all this Malfoy, we'll have to include you to keep you quiet." Harry stated, not pleased with the fact that Draco Malfoy was now part of this little secret. Draco said nothing but nodded.

Ron looked equally unhappy at that prospect, but then his expression brightened, "How cool would that be! We can roam the school at will! How do we know what our animal forms will be?" Ron asked.

"We'll just have to figure it out," Harry said, smiling. "Are you in?"

"Absolutely!" Ron shouted

"Yes," said Draco.

"I don't know," Hermione waffled. After a couple of seconds hard staring from the three boys she gave in, muttering 'boys' under her breath and rolling her eyes.


	6. The White Flag

**Author's Note: Well, here's Chapter 6 for your enjoyment. The chapters keep getting slightly longer, not through any particular conscious choice on my part. I just know where I'm trying to get to in the story, and that's how long it takes.**

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended or implied. I don't own these characters, if I did, I'd hurry up and finish Book Six so people would stop bugging me about it. No animals were hurt or killed in the creation of this work, although my cat Dexter came close because he kept sitting on the keyboard as I was typing.**

**Chapter 6 – The White Flag**

The morning of September 1 found The Burrow in a state just shy of 'utter chaos.' It was the start of the fall term, and as usual assorted Weasleys plus Harry were running around the house like chickens with their heads cut off trying to get their things together to head to Kings Cross Station to catch the Hogwarts Express.

"Ron! Harry! Do hurry up with your trunks, or else you'll miss breakfast!" Mrs. Weasley called from the kitchen. Draco and Hermione were sitting in the living room with their stuff, ready to go. They had been sitting there for an hour already. Hermione had packed the night before, and Draco had never really unpacked his trunk or anything.

"How in the world do you put up with all this?" Draco asked Hermione in a rather sulky manner. Hermione seemed oblivious to the turmoil surrounding them, as she had her nose stuck in the Animagi book, as they had taken to calling it.

"Put up with what?" Hermione looked up from her book with a vague, confused expression on her face.

"All this chaos; people running around, stuff everywhere? It's not like they didn't know that we'd have to leave early for the station today, and why can't the ministry provide us with cars or something? I can't believe we're actually going to have to take the Underground to the station!" Draco was whining.

"Listen, Malfoy, not everyone has the resources to have hired cars at their disposal. I'm sure that if you wanted to go back to Malfoy Manor and ask your father to arrange for your transport to Kings Cross Station, he would be happy to do so." Hermione seemed rather annoyed with Draco, which was understandable given that he had been acting like a spoiled brat all morning. Hermione had really only been reading in order to avoid having to converse with Draco, who was clearly bored with having to wait and frustrated at the current uproar in the Weasley household.

"As if that were an option," Draco huffed.

"Well then, quit whining about it." Hermione turned back to her book and continued to read. Draco opened his mouth, ready to retort that he wasn't whining, but then he realized that he actually was whining, so he shut his mouth quickly and sat there with his arms crossed, sulking again.

It was some time later that everyone was finally ready to go. Harry and Hermione had been required to explain to everyone else, including Draco, how the Underground worked. Harry hadn't thought it possible, but Draco was more clueless about and more awed by the muggle world than even Mr. Weasley; Harry had been forced to grab Draco by the arm to keep him from gawking at the ticket vending machines and turnstiles in the station. Draco had been so distracted by these manifestations of the muggle world he hadn't even noticed Harry leading him by the arm. When they got settled on the subway car, Draco realized that Harry was gripping his arm somewhat forcefully, and he jerked it out of Harry's grasp with a glare. Harry simply sighed in frustration and rolled his eyes at Draco.

The remainder of the trip to the station was relatively uneventful, and everyone got safely onto Platform 9 3/4, Harry thanking Merlin that Dobby the House-Elf's barrier blocking days were over. The only real downfall of the rapid exodus to King's Cross was that Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco had not had the opportunity to compare notes or get their stories straight on why they were arriving together at the station, or how best to handle Draco's new status as a non-Death Eater-in-training. "We'll just have to play it by ear," Harry said.

"Well, it's not like you three will have to do anything particularly different. I'm the one left out to dry," Draco stated dryly. "I'm going to find my...friends." Draco seemed to have trouble with the word 'friends.' He hoped none of the other three had noticed. He wasn't really sure who his friends were anymore. He didn't mean that Potter, Weasley, and Granger were his friends; he simply wasn't certain what his status in Slytherin house would be now that he had defected, and whether any of his fellow housemates knew of his defection.

Harry, Ron and Hermione settled themselves in an empty compartment on the train, and soon Ginny joined them. They sat talking idly as the train left for the long journey north, but soon the subject turned to more serious matters.

"Well, it's been quite a summer hasn't it?" Hermione started the discussion.

"You can say that again," Harry replied, scratching his scar, which had been itching on and off for several days now. "I'm not sure I could have even dreamed up everything that's happened. It almost makes me afraid of what the rest of the year's going to be like."

"Do you really think Malfoy is going to...well, you know, not become an evil wizard?" Ginny asked.

"It sure looks that way, although he hasn't exactly turned into a nice guy, either," Harry responded.

"I think he's done rather well, considering what he used to be like, and how he was brought up. It's been an awfully big change for him," Hermione put in her two cents, and so did Ron.

"I still think he's a git, and he's up to something, too. I just know it."

"Ron, we've been through this. Dumbledore trusts him, and so should we," Hermione said self-righteously. "How do you think the other Slytherins, and the rest of the school, for that matter, will handle "Draco the Good" when they find out?"

"I don't know, Hermione, but I don't think it will be pleasant," Harry responded. Ginny and Ron nodded in agreement; Ron somewhat distractedly as he had just managed to spend all his pocket money on Chocolate Frogs and was enthusiastically biting their heads off.

* * *

About the time the four Gryffindors were discussing the fate of Draco Malfoy, Draco himself was wondering for roughly the eighty-seventh time about the wisdom of not wanting to be a supporter of Voldemort. After separating from Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny on platform 9 3/4 Draco had been of two minds. Part of him wanted to hide in some empty compartment until he could lock himself safely in his room in the dungeons at Hogwarts. The other part of him wanted to find his sister Ivy and at least try to talk with her. For Draco, the latter desire was quite scary, and a little hazardous, but he really wanted to talk to his sister.

Draco and Ivy were very close, but somehow they had never discussed their feelings about their father's choice of allegiance. Draco didn't know what had transpired at Malfoy Manor after his hasty departure, but his big-brother instincts (which he normally hid very well) were running in high gear, and he felt the need to find his sister and make sure she was well. He hoped that her support of their father had been a momentary thing, something done from lack of understanding rather than out of conscious choice.

Unfortunately, Draco never found his sister. Instead he had run into his own personal security force, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. If Crabbe and Goyle had been muggles, they would have made excellent linebackers on an American high school football team. They were relatively unintelligent, unimaginative, and were built like brick outhouses. Prior to Draco's defection, they had served as his sidekicks/yes-men/bodyguards, and the three of them were quite a sight roaming the halls and grounds of Hogwarts. Many a Gryffindor first year had crossed the paths of Draco Malfoy and his two troll-like associates only to be left in tears, or worse, the hospital wing.

Now, Draco found himself on the receiving end of Crabbe and Goyle's threatening presence, and he didn't like it one bit. Draco had been moving toward the back of the train, checking the compartments for his sister. He had learned to ignore the glares from the students in Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw houses years ago. What he had to get used to were the equally hostile stares and glares now coming from members of his own house. In one compartment, he had seen Crabbe and Goyle, and had stepped in before he realized they might not be the loyal associates they had been previously. Given the situation he found himself in now, Draco feared that slight miscalculation might cost him dearly.

"Crabbe, Goyle, where have you two been?" Draco asked in his usual haughty manner upon entering the compartment.

"We were just about to come looking for you," Crabbe said menacingly, while cracking his knuckles. Draco started to get a little nervous, but kept his cool.

"Is that so?" Draco asked with a sneer.

"Yeah. Your father told us about your little escape from Malfoy Manor and asked us to give you a present," Crabbe continued. Draco noted that Goyle wasn't saying much. Well, Crabbe had always been the more articulate of the two. Sometimes Goyle had difficulty forming complete sentences.

"Heh heh, a present," Goyle chuckled churlishly. At the same time both he and Crabbe stood up and started advancing toward Draco, who started backing up toward the door of the compartment.

"And what did my father tell you?" Draco said, trying to keep his cool, though he was really quite nervous now.

"He told us that you and that Potter have been really been friends all these years and that you've been spying on Slytherin house for Dumbledore. He told us that since you had decided to make your true sentiments known, you're going to stop helping us pass. I don't like that very much." Crabbe said. While it wasn't the most eloquent speech he had ever heard, Draco had to admit the Crabbe had a point. Without Draco's help with schoolwork, both Crabbe and Goyle would likely flunk out of Hogwarts.

"Now, hang on a sec, Crabbe. I'm sure you believe what my father told you, but maybe you should..."

Draco never finished his sentence. He had failed to notice that Crabbe's trunk had worked its way out from underneath the seat, and he tripped over it as he backed up and fell down with a loud thud.

"Bloody hell," Draco exclaimed at the sharp pain coming both from the back of his head, and from somewhere in the region of his right shoulder. Then he looked up and noticed that Crabbe and Goyle were looming over him, looking most dangerous. Draco began to sweat. 'This is not good,' he thought. He was feeling a little bit dizzy now.

"One more step toward him, and you'll both be auditioning for lead soprano in the school choir," another voice said. Draco looked up and behind him (so that he was looking upside down) and saw Harry Potter standing in the doorway, wand out and at the ready. Draco couldn't decide whether he should be pissed off or pleased that he wasn't going to get pounded into paste. It turned out to be academic for when he looked at Harry he only got dizzier, which made it hard to think clearly.

Fortunately for Draco, Crabbe and Goyle had chosen the compartment right next to the compartment where Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were seated. When Draco had fallen, the four Gryffindors in the next compartment heard the noise and decided to investigate. When they saw what was transpiring, Harry had immediately pulled out his wand and thrown open the door to the compartment.

Crabbe and Goyle were now thoroughly confused. They understood from the conversation with Lucius Malfoy that Harry Potter might come to Draco's aid, but it was entirely different to see it in the flesh. While they were not exactly intelligent, they could count, at least up to ten, and they noted that four Gryffindors, including a very angry Harry Potter, was a significantly larger number than the two of them. Trading a glance, they backed down.

"Ron, keep your wand out." Harry said as he put his own wand away, and knelt down next to Draco. "Malfoy, are you OK?" he asked in a voice that was tinged with the slightest hint of concern.

"Fine, Potter. I just wanted to see what the train looked like from a slightly different perspective," Draco responded sarcastically, then thought better of it. "Actually, I'm getting a little dizzy, and my head hurts pretty badly." Draco tried to lift his right arm to feel the back of his head. The pain that shot through his arm and neck nearly caused him to vomit, it was so intense. "Oooohh," he moaned.

"Let me look at your head." It was not a request. Harry, keeping one eye on Crabbe and Goyle, who had retreated to the other end of the compartment, knelt down and looked at back of Draco's head.

"Jeez, Malfoy...do you use enough gel? I'm surprised you didn't break you hair." Harry gently touched the back of Draco's head, and Draco yelled, "Ow, Potter. That hurts like the dickens!"

"Sorry...you've got a nasty bump, but there's no blood. Are you still dizzy?"

"Yes, not as bad as before, though."

"Do you think you can walk to our compartment next door?"

"Probably not unassisted," Draco replied.

"Alright. Best do this as gently as possible. We don't know what's up with your shoulder." Harry shifted around so that Draco's left arm was across his shoulders. Even that slight movement caused a bolt of pain in Draco's right shoulder. Draco bit his lip to keep from making any kind of noise. Standing was agony, and Draco found that once he was on his feet he was quite dizzy – much more so than when he had been on the ground. "Take it easy, Malfoy." Harry looked sideways at Draco, who appeared very unsteady on his feet, and somewhat green around the gills. They slowly made their way back to the other compartment with Ron bringing up the rear. Ginny and Hermione had headed back when the trouble started, and they were surprised to see Harry enter with Draco slung across his shoulders, Ron tagging along behind.

"Make some room for him. Watch out for his right shoulder. We're not sure what's wrong with it," Harry said tersely as he and Draco maneuvered awkwardly toward one of the seats.

"What happened?" Ginny asked as she moved a pile of jackets off the seat Harry and Draco were aiming for.

"Crabbe and Goyle were about to make mincemeat out of me when Potter here showed up and saved the day once again," Draco said somewhat sourly. He was still very dizzy, and now quite sick at his stomach from the pain in his shoulder, but he wasn't too happy about having to lean on Harry Potter at the moment.

"No, I mean what happened to your shoulder?" Ginny corrected herself.

Draco was in too much pain to be sarcastic. "I tripped over a trunk and hit my head on the door of the compartment then landed on my shoulder."

"OK, down we go, Malfoy. Take it easy." Harry and Draco sat down together. Draco had to stifle a yelp of pain when his right shoulder tugged on the way down.

Draco found that he was breathing hard, and sweating from the effort of staying conscious through the pain and the dizziness. He noticed distantly that everyone was looking at him with quite a bit of concern, even Weasel. 'Weasley,' Draco corrected himself. 'You should at least try to be civil, even if you think he's a blithering idiot.'

Draco started to get a little embarrassed at being the center of attention. Not that he wasn't used to being the center of attention, he just really didn't know how to handle so many people being genuinely concerned about him. Even more mind-boggling to Draco was the fact that most of these people didn't like him very much, and were concerned anyway. They weren't being forced to show concern. They had every reason not to care, yet they did. This was a new experience for Draco, and he found himself grateful in the midst of his pain and confusion.

"Malfoy, maybe you should try to lie down?" Harry suggested tentatively.

Draco found that sitting down had made a good bit of the dizziness go away. "I think I'll be OK if I don't have to stand for any length of time, but there's a lot of pain, especially in my shoulder," Draco replied.

"I think we should probably look at your shoulder. Ginny would you go tell the conductor what's going on so he can inform Madam Pomfrey and Headmaster Dumbledore at Hogwarts?" Harry asked, looking up at the red-headed girl.

"Sure thing, Harry," she replied, and headed toward the door.

Hermione handed Draco two pills she had pulled out of a pillbox in one of her bags. Here, take these." Draco took them but eyed them suspiciously.

"What are they?" he asked.

"They're for the pain. A muggle invention called ibuprofen. They'll make your head and shoulder feel better," Hermione explained.

Draco didn't look convinced, but he managed to choke down the pills with some water from a bottle Hermione also had in her bag. "My head still hurts," he complained.

"Well, it takes a few minutes for it to work. Be patient for a bit," Hermione replied.

"Dad would love to have some of those things!" Ron exclaimed. "Do they really work?"

"Of course they do!" Hermione said in response, slightly affronted. "Honestly, Ronald, do you think muggles would take them if they didn't?" Ron just shrugged and went back to his chocolate frogs.

"Malfoy, I still think we need to look at your shoulder. Let's see if we can't figure out how to get your shirt off without making you pass out." Harry wasn't exactly sure why Draco's shoulder was hurting, but he wanted to make sure it was nothing serious.

Draco got embarrassed again, and he seemed lost for words, a fact that amused all the Gryffindors in the compartment. "Take off my shirt? Uh...here? Now?"

"Well, yes. It'll be kind of hard for me to look at your shoulder otherwise," Harry responded dryly.

"I'm not taking off my shirt in front of them." Draco gestured with his unhurt arm at Hermione and Ginny, who had just returned from speaking with the conductor. They both looked at Draco rather bemusedly.

"Uh...why not?" asked Harry.

"Well...they're girls." Draco said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Ron stifled a laugh, and Harry rolled his eyes. Draco's own eyes narrowed in anger. "What...Malfoys are by nature very modest. We can't let just anyone see us in a state of vulnerability now can we?" Draco was trying his best to derail the situation with his usual aloofness.

"I think you've blown that whole 'state of vulnerability' thing out of the water already, Malfoy. If you're shy, just say so. Nobody will think less of you," Harry said, the corners of his mouth twitching up in the merest hint of a smile.

Draco opened his mouth as if he was going to make a particularly scathing comment, but at the last minute he changed his mind, shut his mouth and croaked out, "I'm shy. Would you two mind stepping out while Potter here looks at my shoulder?"

"Wow," said Ron. "That was polite. Malfoy really must be in pain," he said with his mouth full, again. Draco shot Ron his best glare.

"We'll just be outside then," Hermione said. "Come on, Ginny. Let's go see if we can find Neville and Seamus." The two girls headed out of the compartment, shutting the door behind them. Ron followed Hermione's retreating form with a suspicious look in his eyes, then shrugged and turned his attention back to his candy. He was working his way through a bag of Every-Flavor Beans as Harry turned to Draco, who still looked rather more pale than usual.

"Right," Harry said. "What's the best way to go about this? I don't suppose you'll be able to take off your own shirt, will you?" he asked.

"I seriously doubt it, Potter." Draco spat. He wished those eye-bew-pro-fin or what ever they were called would kick in. He was really in pain!

"Well, then, I guess I'll have to do it," Harry said with a sigh. At least Malfoy was wearing a button-up shirt. Harry undid the buttons on the front, trying not to make eye contact with Draco, who was trying equally hard to avoid looking at Harry. This was rather awkward for both of them. "OK, Malfoy, can you turn sideways on the seat so I can pull the sleeves off?" Draco shifted slowly on the train seat, every movement causing him to grimace as his shoulder twinged. Ron looked on interested. He never thought he'd see his best friend dressing the wounds of his biggest rival.

Harry moved back around to Draco's front and removed the sleeve from Draco's good arm first, so that he would have to move the bad arm as little as possible. He started to remove the sleeve from Draco's right arm. This proved to be difficult without bumping or moving the arm in the sleeve. "Careful Potter," Draco said through gritted teeth.

"Sorry, Malfoy, I'm being as gentle as I can," Harry replied shortly.

"It's a wonder you can grab that bloody snitch ham-fisted as you are," Draco retorted. Harry looked up at Draco to glare at him, but softened the glare slightly when he saw Draco was genuinely in pain.

A few minutes later, Harry had managed to remove Draco's shirt with only a few more oaths on Draco's part. Harry looked at Draco's shoulder, which to him seemed fine. He reached out and touched Draco on the top of the shoulder. "Does that hurt?"

"Yes, but not there," Draco responded through gritted teeth.

"Where does it hurt then?" Harry asked gently.

"Over toward my neck more, but down toward my chest a bit," Draco replied tersely.

Harry slowly moved his hand in the direction Draco had indicated poking and prodding gently along the way. The closer Harry prodded to the center of Draco's chest, the more Draco grunted with pain, until Harry touched a spot on Draco's collarbone. Draco hollered loud enough to be heard in Ireland, much less in the rest of the train. "Merlin's bloody beard, Potter! That fricking hurts like a mother! Once I get healed I'm going to kick your sorry arse right back to bloody London!" Even Ron seemed impressed at Draco's not-so-little outburst.

"Ah, sorry about that Malfoy. I think you've broken your collarbone. I'm not sure. I need to feel along the bone to see if I can find the break," Harry said even more gently, though he didn't look too sorry at all.

"YOU'LL DO NOTHING OF THE BLOODY SORT, POTTER. I'LL WAIT TILL WE'RE AT THE BLOOMING SCHOOL, THANK YOU VERY MUCH!" Draco yelled. Just then, he looked up and saw that a crowd of other Hogwarts students had gathered at the door of the compartment to see what exactly was going on.

Draco immediately flushed bright red when he realized there were quite a few students seeing him without his shirt on, many of them girls. "Er, sorry about that, Potter. If you're done examining me, can we get my shirt back on, quickly?" A much cowed and still very embarrassed Draco said, motioning with his good arm toward the door. Ron, who had watched the whole scene with great amusement, stifled a snicker.

Harry turned around and saw the audience that had assembled. Most of them appeared shocked that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter were in the same compartment, much less that Harry was examining Draco. He just hoped Hermione, who was standing nearest the glass, had explained the situation. "Right. Sure thing, Malfoy." He didn't really understand why Draco was embarrassed to be seen without his shirt on, it wasn't as if he was deformed or anything. 'In fact,' Harry thought, 'he's in better shape than I am, so I don't see what the big deal is.' With a mental shrug, he pushed the thought aside, having more profound things to consider, and helped Draco get his shirt back on, then opened the door to let Ginny and Hermione in. Apparently, Hermione had in fact explained the situation, as most of the crowd had dispersed by the time Harry had opened the door.

"Well?" Hermione asked as they came back in.

"Malfoy broke his collarbone, we think. He wouldn't let Harry touch him long enough to be sure," Ron said unflatteringly.

"You'd have been screaming bloody murder too if it'd been your collarbone that was broken, Weasley," Draco retorted in a rather sulky manner.

Harry had been mulling things over since examining Draco, and suddenly he spoke up, surprising everyone with his words. "Malfoy, I've been thinking, and I want to call a truce," he said tentatively, looking at Draco.

"I beg your pardon?" Draco said, bewildered.

"I want to call a truce to...well...to this little rivalry we've had the last three years." Harry elaborated, "I know we're not friends, Malfoy, but I want you to know that I'm through with the pranks, the insults, and trying to beat you to a pulp in Quidditch. I guess I just couldn't believe that Crabbe and Goyle, and the rest of the Slytherins, I suppose, would turn on you, so...I just want you to know that if you ever need anything, I'll do what I can to back you up." Harry felt very self-conscious, as all the eyes in the compartment were looking at him.

Draco didn't really know how to respond. "I...see. I'm not entirely sure what I expected to find on my return to school, but at least I'm clear on where I stand with my house. I guess, well, this is hard for me to do, and I don't really like it, but well...thanks." Saying thank you to Harry Potter made Draco feel somehow dirty, but he knew it was the appropriate response, and his thanks were actually genuine. Never before had he had the willing support of one of his peers. It was a new thing for Draco, and though it was strange, it gave him hope.

Ron, Hermione, and Harry were all looking at Draco with their mouths hanging open. "What?" Draco asked anxiously.

"Well," Hermione began, "it's just that we've...well, we've never really heard you be polite, and even pleasant, especially not to any of us, so it's a bit of a shock."

"Ah. Well, don't get used to it, Granger. It was a fluke," Draco said in his usual snotty voice. Draco continued. "By the way, Potter, nice little threat you laid on Crabbe and Goyle back there. I never thought I'd ever hear the wonderfully-goody-two-shoes Harry Potter threatening to castrate someone."

Harry blushed with embarrassment, "Oh...well...I guess you could say that it takes a lot to piss me off, but I do have a pretty bad temper, and well, this is awkward, but I didn't think you should have gotten the snot beat out of you. I always figured that special privilege was reserved for me. Merlin knows I've wanted to enough times."

"Is that so?" Draco said with eyes narrowed.

"Who hasn't?" Ron interjected. He had chocolate all over his face from the now headless frogs he had been eating. Hermione and Harry traded a glance, then Hermione rolled her eyes and Harry laughed out loud. Ron looked confused. Draco looked annoyed.

* * *

A few hours later, the train pulled into Hogsmeade station. Hermione and Ginny had fallen asleep with their heads on Ron's shoulders; Ron was asleep with his chin on his chest. Harry had fallen asleep with his head back and his mouth open. He was snoring. Draco had been dozing on and off, but for the most part he was unable to sleep, though he was tired. Instead he mulled things over in his brain.

'How can these bloody Gryffindors just go to sleep anywhere like that? What if someone walked in and cast a spell on them or something. I can't even begin to imagine having that much trust in anything.' Draco thought to himself; then he did a double-take. 'Hang on. Listen to yourself, Draco. You're mocking them because they're not afraid to sleep on a train. You're the one that's messed up because you're scared to sleep on a train. Even Harry Potter the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Annoy-You is asleep, and he's got more reason to be afraid than anyone. But he's not? Why?' Draco had to admit grudgingly that he admired Harry's ability to take everything in stride, even the fact that Lord Voldemort had tried to kill him several times, and would most likely continue to do so. 'I would like to ask him about that one day, if we ever get to the point where we can have conversations. It's very strange being around people who are so...open. Rather refreshing, really. Much less stressful.' Draco sighed with the realization that the likelihood of him having any real friends was slim, and the chance of Harry Potter ever being his friend, something he had wanted since their first meeting three years earlier, even slimmer.

Shortly after the train pulled into the station, everybody was awake and getting their stuff together for the short trip to Hogwarts. The conductor appeared and told them that they would have to help Draco off the train and into one of the carriages they normally used to get to the school. He also informed them that upon their arrival at Hogwarts, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were to escort Draco to the hospital wing, and then to see the Headmaster in his office. Ron grumbled, but quickly shut up after having his foot stepped on and being glared at by Hermione.

Harry lifted himself off the seat. "OK, Malfoy, you ready? We're closest in height, so it's probably best for me to help you off the train. Hermione, will you take his robe and overcoat?" Hermione nodded.

Draco said, "You could just carry me you know."

"I'm not a donkey, Draco," Harry responded shortly.

Draco sniggered. "No, but you are an ass." He laughed loudly then added, "Sorry, that was just too good to pass up." Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all laughed at Harry, who just looked at them all crossly.

It took Harry and Draco a few minutes to maneuver into the carriage where Draco breathed a sigh of relief. Standing, and having to move more or less under his own power had made him very dizzy again, and the pills Hermione had given him earlier, though effective, were wearing off.

The ride to the castle was quiet, each of the five students lost in their own thoughts of the start of another school year. An hour later found Draco with one less bump on his head (he had to endure quite the lecture from Madam Pomfrey while Harry and Ron snickered and Hermione giggled at his discomfort) and the four fourth-year students standing in front of the Phoenix statue that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster's office. Draco's right arm was in a sling, as Madam Pomfrey had informed him that she wouldn't be able to heal his collarbone without consulting the healers at St. Mungo's hospital.

"Come on, Potter...what's the bloody password?" Draco was still slightly perturbed at not having his collarbone healed.

"Hang on, Malfoy, we'll get it eventually. It's always some kind of random muggle candy," Harry said, irritated. "Butterfinger, Peppermint Patty, Nutty Ho-ho..." The statue moved aside, revealing a spiral staircase. The four students were rather surprised. "Nutty Ho-ho...you've got to be joking," Harry spoke for all of them. Everyone else just shrugged, and they ascended the staircase.

When the four students arrived in the Headmasters office, they found Professor Snape already seated. Apparently he and Headmaster Dumbledore had been waiting for them. Dumbledore was eating, of all things, a Nutty Ho-ho. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were nonplussed. Draco just stifled a snicker.

"Ah...here they are Severus. Please sit down boys, and Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, conjuring four chairs for the new arrivals. "Lemon drop anyone? I'd offer you a Ho-ho, but I'm afraid our Potions Master just ate the last one. It seems he has a soft spot for them." Dumbledore smiled indulgently; Snape looked ready to eat nails rather than Nutty Ho-Ho's. The four students just shook their heads; declining the Headmaster's offer.

"Well, then. I suppose we had better get started. Mr. Malfoy, the conductor told us of your little mishap on the train. That's why I've asked Professor Snape to be here. Why don't you tell us what happened?" Dumbledore asked kindly, his fingers steepled on his desk.

Draco told Dumbledore and Snape about the incident on the train, and about his subsequent semi-healing. Snape was visibly angry when Draco finished. "I think, Headmaster, that Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle will need to serve at least a week's detention for the poor judgment," Snape stated through clenched teeth in his oily voice.

"Very well, Severus. I trust you will make it abundantly clear to the remainder of Slytherin House that attacks on fellow students are not tolerated?" Harry was surprised to hear that the Headmaster's voice was as cold as steel.

"Of course," Snape agreed.

"Now, Mr. Malfoy, we need to consider how exactly to deal with your situation, given that it would appear your father has made known your recent decision," the headmaster continued.

"Yes, sir," Malfoy nodded in agreement.

"Headmaster, I would submit that not all of Slytherin house will be party to the machinations of Lucius Malfoy and You-Know-Who," Snape interjected.

"Yes, I am aware of that, Severus, but I think it important that we also have a plausible reason to continue young Mr. Malfoy's association with Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, and Mr. Weasley. I am very much of the mind that they will play a fair-sized role in Mr. Malfoy's well-being at this institution," Dumbledore stated. Draco, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked extremely displeased at this announcement.

Professor Snape had a sly, evil grin on his face as he spoke again. "Since Mr. Malfoy here is unable to have his collarbone healed, he is unable to use his right arm effectively. Mr. Malfoy, you are right-handed, are you not?" Snape asked Draco.

"Yes, sir," Draco replied. He wasn't sure he liked where this was going.

"Then it seems Mr. Malfoy will be unable to complete nearly all of the requirements of his daily routine. I would suggest that Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley should be responsible for assisting Mr. Malfoy in getting ready for morning classes as well as each night. Miss Granger can also help with notes during classes, and with evening homework. I believe all four students already have the same schedule, so this does not present any particular conflict." Snape sneered at the three Gryffindor students, who were absolutely horrified at the thought of becoming Draco Malfoy's personal servants. Draco couldn't decide if all his Christmases had come at once, or if this was going to be pure hell. In any case, he hoped his collarbone healed quickly.

"A most excellent suggestion, Severus," the Headmaster agreed. "That will also give us some additional time to work out a longer-term solution to young Mr. Malfoy's problem. Now, children, I do believe the sorting ceremony has been completed, and the feast nearly done. Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, help Mr. Malfoy to the Slytherin dormitories, then return to Gryffindor Tower. Miss Granger, why don't you stop by the kitchens on your way back to the tower to arrange for supper for the four of you. I believe Fred and George Weasley can send you in the right direction."

All four students let out a resigned, "Yes, sir," and took their leave. As they descended the staircase from the Headmaster's office, Ron was grumbling incomprehensibly about having to wait on Malfoy. They separated at the bottom of the stairs, the three boys heading to the dungeons, Hermione to find the Weasley twins for directions to the kitchens.

* * *

Yet another hour later found Draco sitting on the edge of his bed in the Slytherin fourth-year dormitory. Potter and Weasley had been nearly unbearable in getting Draco situated. Draco didn't know how he was going to put up with them. The sling on Draco's arm made it nearly impossible to dress and undress. Weasley had flatly refused to help, so Harry had told him to get Draco's stuff unpacked and put away. Draco had made Weasley do it over twice, as Weasley had an amazing tendency to just throw stuff anywhere, rather than place it in its proper place. Draco was grateful that he didn't have to deal with a shower tonight...he was very shy, and he didn't want to think about how he was going to navigate that little part of his morning ritual with Potter breathing down his neck.

Draco heard a knock on the door and then a head poked around the edge. Ivy! Draco gave a start, and immediately winced with pain. It was Ivy! And she had come to see him! What did she want?

"Er, hello Draco. May I come in?" Ivy asked tentatively.

"Um, sure," Draco replied nervously. Ivy opened the door just enough to squeeze through, and then walked hesitantly into the room. Draco patted the bed next to him. "You might as well come and sit down," he said.

Ivy took a deep breath, then joined her brother sitting on the bed. They looked at each other for some time, both afraid to start the conversation that both had been anticipating. Ivy's mind was reeling. She didn't know where to start. What was Draco thinking? Was he mad at her? The last few weeks at home had been horrible; her father in a rage, her mother all but imprisoned, Draco gone Merlin-knows-where. Ivy's lower lip began to tremble and her eyes filled with tears. Draco, seeing his sister's utter confusion and the pain and fear beneath, melted. "Oh, Ivy, it's going to be OK," he said, putting his good arm around his sister and hugging her to him.

This was the straw the broke the camel's back. Ivy burst into tears - weeks of emotional turmoil in liquid form - and she cried into Draco's shoulder for some minutes. After a while, Ivy looked up at Draco, still sniffing, her face red with the tears she had shed and croaked out, "Draco, I'm so sorry." This brought forth a new wave of crying, and all Draco could think to do was to hug his sister and make incoherent comforting noises interspersed with the occasional, "It's OK, Ivy. We'll be alright."

After a few more minutes, Ivy looked up for the second time; she was clearly more in control of her emotions now. Draco let go of her long enough to fish a pocket handkerchief out of the nightstand next to his bed, and he began to clean the tears from her face, then handed her the handkerchief to blow her nose. Ivy smiled weakly at her brother, who returned the gesture with a love in his eyes that most people would have been astonished to see on Draco Malfoy's face.

Draco said very softly, "You understand now don't you?"

Ivy nodded, and then her brow furrowed, "Why didn't you tell me?" She said in a hurt tone.

"I was going to, the morning that father took me to his office, and you were already there," Draco explained.

"But why didn't you tell me before? We always talk about everything, Drakey?"

"_Please _don't call me that Ivy, at least not in public." Draco rolled his eyes. Ever since she was little and had trouble with "o" sounds, Ivy had referred to her big brother as 'Drakey'. He hated it.

"We're not in public. And you didn't answer my question." Ivy wasn't going to budge.

"Because I needed to sort it out for myself, and talk to Mum before I talked to you about it," Draco reasoned.

"The last few weeks were terrible. Dad's gone mental, and won't let Mum out of her room. I don't know what he's going to do to her," Ivy said in a scared voice.

"I don't think Dad will actually do anything to her. Call it a gut feeling," Draco said with a frown. "I'll talk to Professor Snape about it. He'll have an idea of what to do."

"Why did you have to go and tell Harry Potter about all of this?" Ivy sulked. "He's a no-good Gryffindor. And those two friends of his, Granger and Weasley, aren't any better. In fact, they're worse."

For once, Draco had wished that his attitude toward the Wonder Boy of Gryffindor or the Golden Trio hadn't taken quite so well with his little sister. "Ivy, I know you don't like them. I don't like them very much either, but they're not bad people, once you get to know them and learn to tolerate their quirks. They've really helped me out of a couple of tight spots." Draco told Ivy about his ignominious arrival at the Burrow and the incident on the train, parts of which Ivy had already heard.

"So...what do we do, Draco?" Ivy asked again in a small voice.

"For the moment, we wait and watch. I don't know where we stand with everyone in Slytherin House, but I do know that we have three allies in Gryffindor, plus the Headmaster and Professor Snape are backing us up too. Just lay low for a while." Ivy always followed Draco's lead in matters of politics and power at Hogwarts.

"You mean Potter, Weasley, and Granger are on our side?" Ivy asked nonplussed.

"They are now. Potter called a truce today. Said he would back me up in a fight or any other way he could. Took me by surprise, but it's a relief. One less thing to worry about. As I said, they're not bad people, Ivy. Just different."

"If you say so, Drakey." Ivy said with her own unique version of the Malfoy smirk. Draco growled at her. "How's the shoulder?" she continued with concern.

"They can't heal it, because it's actually the collarbone. It just means that Potter, Weasley, and Granger get to be my servants until Madame Pomfrey hears from St. Mungos. That's a convenient cover for our new-found association as well. Now, sister dear, I do believe it's time you went to bed," Draco said in his best older-brother voice.

"Alright, Drakey. See you tomorrow." Ivy said, smirking again.

"Ivy Narcissa Malfoy, you'd better get out of here right now, AND DO NOT CALL ME THAT AGAIN!" Draco yelled at his sister, who jumped and made a beeline for the door out of the boy's dormitory. With a sigh, Draco shook his head and climbed into bed, not entirely looking forward to the first day of school.


	7. Of Shattered Dragons

Authors Note: Here's the latest installment. I'm trying very hard to keep to my commitment of one chapter a week, and I appreciate everyone's patience when I run a bit behind as I did this week. Sometimes real life gets in the way, even if the fantasy world we write about is often more to our liking. ;-) Enjoy.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, the main characters of which are copyrighted by anyone and everyone but me. This is for entertainment only. It is rated K+ for potential implied violence and language. No mythical magical animals were harmed in creation of this work, though Draco does whine a bit, which in polite society would be considered cruel and unusual. On with the show... 

Chapter 7 – Of Shattered Dragons

Harry and Ron woke up very late the next morning to a very perturbed Hermione taking turns shaking each of them by the shoulder to get them up. "Wake up for Merlin's sake! You've got to help Malfoy get ready this morning!" Hermione stamped her feet in sheer frustration.

Harry sat bolt upright in bed. "Malfoy! Bloody hell, I completely forgot!" Hermione just rolled her eyes, huffed, and then turned and left the room. Harry was dressed and on his way to the dungeons in record time. He had left Ron grumbling in his bed, "Just five more minutes, Mum, please?" As Harry made his way further and further down to the coldest and dampest part of the castle he thought, 'Well, at least one good thing about having hair that won't stay combed...no one can tell if I've showered or not.' He continued to wind his way down. It seemed to take forever to find the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Fortunately, he had remembered to get the password from Malfoy the night before, though the other boy had not wanted to give it to him. "Come on, Malfoy. How do you expect us to get to you in the morning if we can't get in the common room. You think your old chums Crabbe and Goyle will let us in if we knock?" Malfoy had sulked for a moment and had grumbled about the whole thing (Harry thought it sounded more like whining, but didn't say so) but had eventually given the password – 'Dragon Tears'. "What does it mean?" Harry had asked. Draco had then gotten very angry and kicked Harry and Ron out of his room. It occurred to Harry as he spoke the password to get into the Slytherin Common Room that 'Draco' was Latin for 'dragon' and that it was just one of the ways some of the Slytherins were making life a living hell for Malfoy. Now that Malfoy was _persona non grata_, it seemed the rest of the Slytherins weren't afraid to treat Malfoy however they felt. Harry didn't want to think too long or hard about the implications of the password, but he understood now why Draco had gotten upset.

Harry arrived at Draco's dormitory. There hadn't been many other Slytherins in the common room, so Harry had been able to more or less sneak through. "Potter, it's about bloody time you got here! How in the name of Merlin am I supposed to be ready in time for class! Bloody hell! You'd better have brought me some good strong coffee, or you'll wish you'd left me to Crabbe and Goyle. Help me out of my shirt so I can get a shower." Draco was sitting on the edge of his bed, fidgeting impatiently, as he couldn't pace and rant with his bad shoulder. He was scowling like he'd just swallowed some sour milk. Harry took a moment to look at his surroundings, as he hadn't really paid attention to them the night before. While the Gryffindor common room and dormitories were comfortable, the Slytherin rooms were downright plush, perhaps even luxurious. The floors were hewn stone like the rest of the castle, but were covered in Persian wool rugs. Tapestries hung on the walls, both for sound deadening, and insulation. They were in the dungeons, so the room was rather drafty, even with a fire blazing in the fireplace. Malfoy's canopied bed appeared to be made from a dark-stained walnut, and he had a nightstand and dresser to match. Unlike the Gryffindor rooms, in which each year shared one large room, the Slytherins appeared to enjoy smaller individual rooms that opened to a common sitting area and bathroom. Another door in the common area led to a hallway and the main Slytherin common room. Harry went over to help Draco out of his pajama shirt, wondering if he was going to have to help Draco shower. He was sincerely hoping that was not the case.

"Coffee?" Draco asked testily once Harry had extracted him from his shirt, with only a slight twinge of pain from his shoulder.

"Sorry, you'll have to wait till breakfast. Err...Malfoy...you ah, aren't going to need my help bathing are you?" Harry asked nervously.

"Of course not, Potter." Draco made the name sound like an insult. "I am rather modest you know, so that would be a little awkward; I think I've figured out how to make it work, so no, I don't need your help bathing, but I will need your help dressing and such."

"Right, I'll wait," Harry said, trying not to let his temper get the best of him at being treated like a servant by Draco.

"Fine. Don't touch anything." Draco headed for the bathroom.

Harry rolled his eyes. 'He's an absolute unholy terror in the morning. I wonder what the odds are of me scaring up some coffee for him. That would be a nice thing to do, even though I'm not sure why I should be nice to Malfoy. I guess it would make up for me being so late,' Harry thought to himself. He decided to stroll off toward the kitchens to see if Dobby would bring some coffee. He returned ten minutes later to find Draco still in the shower. Harry decided to see if everything was alright.

"Doing OK in there Malfoy?" Harry asked, sticking his head in the bathroom door.

"Yes. Fine. It's just slow, that's all." Harry heard Draco's muffled response and decided not to press the issue. He sounded annoyed.

Returning to Draco's bedroom, Harry found that Dobby had appeared with Draco's coffee and subsequently disappeared. He fixed himself a cup while he waited for Draco to finish, then decided he really should have a cup ready for Draco as well. The Slytherin took his coffee with lots of cream and lots of sugar, Harry remembered from watching Draco fix it every morning at the Burrow. Harry had been amazed that you could put that much sugar in a cup of coffee and still stand to drink it. Draco returned from the bathroom about ten minutes later. He appeared to be in a better mood, and actually smiled when Harry handed him a cup of coffee. He took a sip and said, "Thanks, Potter." Draco was genuinely surprised to find the coffee waiting for him. Harry had obviously gone to a lot of trouble to get it. Internally, Draco was slightly taken aback. Here again was an example of the Gryffindor boy doing something he didn't have to for someone he didn't particularly like, just because he knew it would make them feel good. It made Draco consider Harry in a slightly different light, and he found himself warming ever so slightly to his once-rival.

"We'd better hurry up or we'll miss breakfast," Harry prompted a moment later as Draco had become completely engrossed in his coffee.

"Well, whose fault is that?" Draco snapped.

"Come off it, Malfoy. I'm hungry, you're hungry, and neither of us is happy about this, so let's just deal with it and get on with our lives, alright?"

"Fine. My robes are in the wardrobe." It took Harry a minute to pick out a set of robes Draco approved of. This confounded Harry something awful because as near as Harry could tell, each set of robes was exactly alike. It took a few minutes to get Draco into the robes, given that they had to be cautious of Draco's arm, but they managed without causing too much pain on Draco's part. "You'll have to slick back my hair, Potter." Again, the name sounded like an insult. "There's no way I can do it myself."

"You've gone mental if you think I'm going to have anything to do with your hair, Malfoy, much less put all that nasty gel in it," Harry said, crossing his arms in a most defiant gesture.

"And I am not about to make an appearance in the Great Hall with my hair looking like a blond version of your poor excuse for a haircut," Draco retorted.

"You know where your brush is, and you've got one good arm. You do the math. I'll see you at breakfast." With that, Harry turned and stormed out of Draco's room. Draco huffed in frustration and returned to the bathroom to try and at least neaten up his hair before heading to breakfast himself.

By the time Harry had found his way back to the Great Hall – 'Why do the dungeons have to be so confusing' he thought as he made his fourth wrong turn – Hermione and Ron were already there eating breakfast. Judging by Ron's appearance, he hadn't had time for a shower either. 'Serves him right for staying in bed,' Harry thought grumpily as he sat down across from his two best friends at the Gryffindor table.

"Hiya Harry!" said a voice next to Harry. Harry groaned; he had unwittingly sat down next to Colin Creevey and his younger brother Dennis. He grumbled something incoherent by way of response and reached for the plate of sausages, then followed it with eggs, toast, and another cup of coffee. Harry didn't really feel like talking to anyone at the moment, so he focused on his breakfast. Everyone else seemed to be doing the same. Several minutes later a scowling Draco Malfoy with hair that was combed but hanging down into his face made his way into the Great Hall and sat down at the Slytherin table. Harry noted that although he was not having any trouble feeding himself one-handed, there appeared to be something going on at the table, as Draco was sitting by himself.

Harry nodded to Ron and Hermione. "Look at Malfoy."

"Doesn't look very happy, does he? Serves the git right if you ask me," Harry had to replay what Ron said in his head, as Ron had his mouth full as he talked.

"Gross, Ronald. Don't you have any manners?" It appeared that Hermione was also in a mood. "But you're right, he doesn't look like he's enjoying himself very much."

"He tried to make me slick his hair back this morning. I almost told him where he could stick his hairbrush, but decided I'd better not," Harry commented dryly.

"I thought something looked different. I kind of like his hair like that. It makes him look...less stuffy." Ginny was seated next to Ron, who turned and looked at his sister like she'd grown another head.

"You _like_ Malfoy's hair?" Ron looked as if he were about to explode. Harry couldn't help but think that it was early in the day for a temper tantrum, even for his best friend.

"Well, it's definitely an improvement," Ginny said defensively, somewhat embarrassed. Hermione nodded her head in agreement, but also got slightly embarrassed when Ron turned and glared at her.

"I wonder where Draco's sister is, and what the story is on the two of them." Harry mused as he worked his way through a second helping of eggs. As if on cue, Ivy appeared in the Great Hall. Harry couldn't help but note that she and Malfoy looked remarkably alike. 'Why didn't I notice that before?' he wondered. He had of course always known that Draco and Ivy were brother and sister, but had never given it much thought, as they didn't act much like brother and sister while at school.

No fewer than eight pairs of eyes were watching the little reunion taking place at the Slytherin table. All four Weasleys – Fred and George were seated close to Harry, on the other side of the Creeveys, and they of course knew of what had transpired at the Burrow with Draco Malfoy – Harry, Hermione, Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape were very curious to see what would happen between Draco and Ivy.

As Ivy approached the Slytherin table, she noted that her brother was by himself, and her immediate reaction was to go and sit with him. She changed her direction accordingly, when suddenly she noted that Draco, looking her directly in the eyes, had reached up and touched his nose while drumming the fingers of his other hand on the table in a very particular way, accompanied by a slight shake of his head. Ivy nearly stopped short in surprise, but held on to her composure and went and joined the Slytherins at the other end of the table without so much as a further glance at Draco. Ivy was certain that no one had seen either her unspoken conversation with her brother, or her immediate change in behavior.

Ivy was mistaken. "Whoa! Did you see that?" Harry asked. Hermione and Ginny nodded, but the twins were talking with Neville Longbottom about something, and Ron, true to form, had been more concerned with his breakfast. "What do you think it means?" Harry continued.

As Ivy sat down with her friends at the other end of the table, she was thinking hard and fast. Why hadn't Draco wanted her to sit with him? He obviously had a very good reason. He always did; he had signaled her very clearly. Ivy and Draco, long ago, when they were growing up in Malfoy Manor had devised a way of communicating short messages by using gestures and such. Sometimes they felt the need to "talk" where they didn't have to worry about anyone else knowing they were communicating. Draco had very clearly told Ivy to "act normal" and "pretend everything is as would be expected" which Ivy had interpreted to mean that she should ignore her brother given that it was common knowledge (as far as the student body-at-large knew) she was siding with Lucius and not Draco in what some muggle-born Ravenclaw had called the "Malfoy Family Feud." This would have concerned her more than it did, except that Draco took an unusual risk and threw a reassuring and genuine smile in her direction as she walked past him.

Draco was very proud of his sister at that moment. They had not discussed how they would behave publicly since "the disagreement", as Draco and the Golden Trio had started referring to Draco's defection, but he could see the advantage in the student body at large thinking that Ivy and Draco were at odds. Fortunately, Ivy had been paying attention, and had slipped only slightly when Draco had signaled her. He had trained her well, and Draco couldn't help taking pleasure in that fact. He also had felt the need to reassure his sister, as he knew she tended to be more emotional than he. He was really more upset about his treatment at breakfast than he thought he should be but he felt the need to put on a brave face for Ivy.

"I'm not sure what it means, Harry, but Malfoy, er, Ivy, looked like she was headed to sit with Malfoy, rather, Draco – ugh, this is confusing – until she changed her mind." Hermione was a little frustrated at having to refer to both Ivy and Draco by their first names, but with two Malfoys being the subject of the conversation the use of the family name was rather difficult.

"Yeah, I saw that. Do you think they talked about it last night, or something?" Hermione shrugged. "More importantly, did you see the same thing I did as Malfoy, er...Ivy walked past Draco?" Harry found it surprisingly hard to refer to the Malfoys by their first names as well.

"No, I must have missed it," Hermione said with a perplexed look on her face.

"I could have sworn that Malfoy actually smiled at his sister," Harry said.

"Smiled? Malfoy?" Ron was in shock, a piece of bacon half-hanging out of his mouth.

"Yeah, and it wasn't a smirk. It looked...genuine. Maybe _I_ should go see Madam Pomfrey," Harry continued. Just then, Professor McGonagall, dressed in her usual dark robes and tartan cap, came around passing out schedules for the term. Ron, Harry and Hermione immediately compared their schedules. As usual, they had all the basic classes together: History of Magic, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms, and Care of Magical Creatures. Hermione was taking Arithmancy again, while Harry and Ron had elected to continue Divination. They both hated it, but it was the easy option, and at least they were in it together.

"Who's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Harry consulted his schedule. "Professor Marion...sounds a bit stuffy, don't you think?"

"Yeah, mate. But, I suppose we were lucky to find anyone at all given the track record for the job."

"I don't know, Ron. I happened to overhear Professor McGonagall discussing him with the headmaster last night. She was saying that she's not sure it was wise to hire such a young person for the position, especially an American."

"He's an American? Great. We're not going to be able to understand a bloody thing he says," Ron said testily. "Is he at the head table?" Ron, Harry, and Hermione all turned to scan the teacher's table.

"Well, there's only one person up there I don't recognize, and he's definitely young." Hermione looked thoughtfully up at the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, who was sitting to the right of Dumbledore, engaged in conversation with the Headmaster.

"Young? He barely looks like he's old enough to be out of school!" Ron was overreacting again. Ginny had been listening in.

"I don't know Ron, he's kind of cute," she said with a giggle.

"Ginny!" Ron exclaimed with a scandalized look on his face. "First Malfoy, and now some prat of a professor!"

"Oh, honestly, Ron. We've not even had him in class yet," Hermione sniffed.

"Do you think he's any good?" Harry asked. "And what's he doing here from America anyway?"

"They probably couldn't find anyone in England who'd take the job," Ron snorted.

Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Harry continued to split their attention between Draco Malfoy, who was still eating alone, and the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. The new professor had finished his conversation with Dumbledore and appeared to be reviewing a lesson plan as he ate his breakfast. He looked to be under thirty, with brown hair. Harry decided he couldn't really tell much else about the new teacher as he was seated, but he didn't look particularly evil or incompetent. "Well, there's nothing about his appearance that gives him away as American, I suppose. We'll find out soon enough," Harry said as the four Gryffindors headed to their first class – History of Magic for the fourth-years and Care of Magical Creatures for Ginny.

Harry decided not much later that it ought to be illegal to have to sit through History of Magic so soon after breakfast. It was far too early in the morning to have to deal with Professor Binns droning on incessantly about the Great Niffler Inbreeding of 1569. Harry re-checked his schedule for the fourteenth time. He had History of Magic and Care of Magical Creatures before lunch today, with Charms and Transfiguration in the afternoon. Tomorrow he had double periods of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, and Divination. Harry was not looking forward to tomorrow. Ron of course had the same schedule, and Hermione's was similar except for the substitution of Arithmancy in place of Divination.

"I don't know why you two don't do something useful with your elective," Hermione had said as they picked their classes. "It's not like you'll ever do anything with Divination."

"Actually, Hermione, we just love sitting on those little couches and drinking tea and smelling the perfume. It helps us get in touch with our feminine side." Hermione had not appreciated Ron's attempt at humor, and had headed off to the library muttering something about "boys" yet again.

Harry looked over at Draco, who, if he was not mistaken, had the same schedule as he and Ron. Draco had not spoken to them when he entered the classroom, but he had nodded tersely in their direction. At the moment, Draco was not trying to even look like he was paying attention to the lecture. In fact, Harry noted, he had a rather glazed look in his eyes, as if he was a thousand miles away. Their normally vivid sea-gray color had dulled as if tarnished. He certainly wasn't writing anything down, as that was precluded by his broken collarbone. Harry wondered idly if Draco was in a lot of pain from his collarbone. That could be causing the glazed look in his eyes. Then Harry wondered at himself for wondering about Draco. 'Don't go getting worried about the git, Harry,' he said to himself. 'He's still Draco Malfoy.'

Draco's thoughts were not in fact a thousand miles away. His thoughts were still at breakfast, and on the Hogwarts Express. He had been surprised at the reaction of his housemates both on the train to school and at breakfast this morning. The most surprising thing for Draco was that he found himself actually hurt because of their reactions. This was an unwelcome feeling for Draco, as he had always been taught that you did not let petty things like friendships cause pain or emotional turmoil. And yet, all of Draco's life at the moment seemed to be in some kind of turmoil; he felt ill-equipped to deal with it. Draco was afraid that it would only be a matter of time before he had another breakdown, and that was something he didn't want to think about. He knew he couldn't talk to his sister about it; he very much needed to be her lifeline, and could not afford for her to see him weak.

Draco didn't understand why all these things had to happen to him. Life had been so perfect until he started questioning his father. For one fleeting moment, Draco wished he had been able to continue on, blindly ignorant of what was passing in the world at large. He felt as if he had lost his family; his direction in life. He only knew what he felt to be right and wrong, and that decision, Draco felt, had cost him nearly everything.

For the first time in his life, sitting in the History of Magic classroom on the first day of his fourth year of classes, Draco felt sad. He had no family save his sister; he had no friends; he did not know what lay ahead for him. His boyhood dreams had been cruelly shattered by Lord Voldemort and his father, Lucius Malfoy. What would he do? What was the point? Why had all this happened to him?

"Malfoy. Malfoy! It's time to go. Class is over." Draco looked up from his processing, startled. Harry had put his hand on Draco's shoulder to try to get his attention. The vivid green eyes that for so long had looked upon sea-gray eyes with nothing but resentment and distaste now looked at those same eyes with care and concern. "Are you OK, Malfoy? You seemed kind of distracted."

'How can he ask me that?' Draco thought. 'We hated each other for the last three years, and now he treats me like a friend. Like he actually cares about me. How can he forgive the pranks, the insults, and how can he forget how much we hated each other?' Part of Draco still wanted to hate Harry Potter. Draco knew that Harry was not mocking him; though that would have been much easier for Draco to bear. No, Harry Potter was a true Gryffindor: honest, loyal, and open. He had pledged to support Draco, and that's what Harry was doing.

"No, Potter, I'm not OK. I don't want to talk about it either. Thank you for asking," Draco responded in a defeated voice.

"Alright. I won't press you. Just remember that I said that if you ever needed anything, I'd be here. I know I'm probably the last person on earth you'd be comfortable talking to, but I mean it." Harry let his arm fall from Draco's shoulder, and he walked toward the door. Draco was surprised at how much that fleeting bit of human contact, even from Harry Potter, had been subconsciously welcome to him.

'It's odd,' Draco thought to himself as he and Harry walked silently through the castle and out to Care of Magical Creatures. 'Potter is probably the one person I could talk to about all this. Strange, but even though we've been enemies for three years, I probably know him better than anyone else; and because of that, even though I don't like him, I feel that I could tell him anything.'

Care of Magical Creatures was, if not a disaster, then dangerously close to one. Harry couldn't figure out what it was about the combination of Draco Malfoy, Rubeus Hagrid, and half-tamed animals that didn't work, but it was like oil and water. Hagrid had greeted Harry in his usual manner upon Harry and Draco's arrival at Care of Magical Creatures. "All righ' there, Harry?" Hagrid had even gone so far as to greet Draco in a very formal manner. "Hello, Mr. Malfoy. Nice to see you." Harry assumed that Hagrid had been brought more or less up to speed on Draco's status. Draco hadn't returned Hagrid's greeting.

After the lesson had started, Hagrid had brought out a creature that Harry at first thought was a mole, although it was a bright purple color. It was about the size of a small cat, and appeared to be very near-sighted. Harry wasn't sure that animals could squint, but this one did. It appeared most unhappy to be out in the sunlight, and was struggling futilely as Hagrid held it up for the class to see.

"Alrigh'," Hagrid began. "This here is a Spade-Footed Gangletopper. They're kinda related to moles, but they're magical. They can dig through almost anything, even solid rock, using their front paws. Really good if yeh need to dig a tunnel or something; but they're kinda cranky, so watch out." The Gangletopper was still squirming, but Harry could see that its front paws were shaped not unlike trowels, and instead of normal claws or nails, the Gangletopper had a broad crystalline-black hoof-looking claw on the front edge of each paw.

"Right. I've got enough of the critters here for yeh to pair up and work with 'em for a bit. I'd suggest you find a bit of hard ground or rock or something and watch 'em dig. They won't need any encouragement." Hagrid was making his way through the class – Gryffindors and Slytherins – handing out squirming Gangletoppers to pairs of students.

Harry and Draco happened to be standing next to each other, which was just as well, as Harry didn't think Draco had much of a chance of finding another partner anyway.

"Malfoy, Harry, here's yer Gangletopper. Careful, Malfoy, I wouldn't want it to hurt yeh." Hagrid handed the Gangletopper to Harry while Draco gave Hagrid a look that should have singed the giant's beard off. Up close, the Gangletopper wasn't nearly as cute as Harry thought it might have been from a distance. In fact, it was downright ugly. Harry held the creature at arms length, while Draco just looked on, disgusted. "Ugh...why would we want to take care of that?"

"I've no idea, Malfoy," Harry agreed. "Let's just put it down and watch it dig." Harry was tired of dealing with the squirming animal. Draco nodded in agreement, and Harry set the animal down between them.

The Gangletopper, no longer squirming, looked up at Harry, then looked at Malfoy, and immediately leaped several feet into the air. "Bloody hell!" Both Harry and Draco exclaimed at the same time as the Gangletopper somersaulted in midair to a heads-down position. They heard similar exclamations coming from other pairs of students all around them. The Gangletopper had stretched out its front legs so that it looked like it was trying to dive into the ground. A moment later, that's exactly what the Gangletopper did, the claws on its front paws seeming to magically liquefy the dirt it contacted as the creature disappeared.

Unfortunately for Draco, the ground where the Gangletopper had disappeared continued to act as if it were water. Harry had never seen dirt splash before, but that's what the ground in front of Harry and Draco did – it splashed, all over Draco. Harry really, really wanted to burst out laughing. He had never seen anything so funny in his life. Draco was standing there, his mouth open. He was covered in dirt from the top of his blond head all the way down the front of his robes to his shoes. He was rigid, as if in shock. It was all Harry could do not to fall over from laughing, but he knew that Draco would probably kill him on the spot.

None of the other students in the class seemed to suffer from Harry's compunction. A large wave of laughter erupted from around Harry and Draco. Ron was among the loudest of those laughing, though Hermione was oddly silent. Even Hagrid's mouth was twitching up in a smile. Harry decided that given Draco's earlier admission that he was not OK, he had better get the Slytherin boy out of there and get him cleaned up. He would need help with that anyway. "Come on, Malfoy, let's get you out of here. Hermione, we'll see you guys at lunch, I suppose." Harry gently took Draco's good arm, and began to lead him toward the castle, the laughter continuing on behind them.

Harry and Draco arrived in the Slytherin dormitory several minutes later. Draco had been oddly quiet the entire trip to his room, and Harry was beginning to worry. 'This is not like him,' Harry thought. 'He should be pissing fire.' "Malfoy," Harry said out loud, trying to get the Slytherin boy's attention.

Draco looked at Harry with a very sad, vacant stare. "Yeah," the blonde boy said flatly.

"We need to get you cleaned up. I'm going to start the shower. Can you start to undress?" Draco didn't respond, so Harry went in and turned on the shower in the bathroom. Given that morning classes were still in session, the bathroom was deserted. Harry returned to Draco's room to find the Sltytherin still staring blankly at nothing.

"Malfoy. Snap out of it." Draco was strangely unresponsive, and Harry frowned at the other boy. "I'm at least going to get you out of these dirty robes. Sit down so I can get your shoes and socks off." Draco complied, and Harry managed to remove the dirty shoes and set them aside. Draco was wearing the nicest socks Harry had ever seen, but they weren't muddy at all. Removing them, Harry noted that Draco's feet were pedicured, of all things. Harry shook his head in disbelief.

Draco was mostly unaware of what was going on. Something had snapped inside of him when he heard the rest of the class laughing at him in Care of Magical Creatures. All of the emotions he had been suppressing for the last several weeks and all the issues he had been thinking about this morning in History of Magic broadsided him unexpectedly.

Draco had never been an overly emotional person. His father had raised him to be in complete control of his emotions at all times, because to show emotion, and especially to lose control of one's emotions, was weak. Now, however, with his world turned upside-down, Draco felt very emotional, but not being able to express that was tearing him up inside. He was tired of putting a brave face on things, tired of being strong for Ivy, and he felt as if he had no one to turn to. Even his fellow housemates and what few friends he did have were turning against him. Draco was weary, alone, and felt unable to deal with life anymore. There was a black lump of hopelessness that felt like lead in the pit of his stomach.

"Malfoy. Malfoy, can you stand back up please?" Draco looked dully up at Harry, who was looking back at Draco with a very concerned expression. "I need to get your robes off. They're all muddy." Harry prayed that Draco was wearing something underneath his outer robes, as he had zero desire to embarrass both himself and Malfoy in the event that Malfoy was starkers.

"Sure," was all Draco could bring himself to respond with. He looked at Harry dully again. Why was Harry doing this? Harry didn't like him. They weren't friends. But the Gryffindor boy insisted on helping Draco, even when it clearly went beyond the call of duty. This was even more confusing to Draco, as the notion of kindness had been lost on the Slytherin for years and years. Harry had not given a thought to what he was doing. Draco needed help; Harry would help Draco. That's what he did. He helped people when they needed help. Harry had managed to remove Draco's outer robe without disturbing his right arm in the sling. Draco noted with interest that Harry was being very gentle.

"I'll be right back Malfoy. I'm just going to get a towel to wipe the dirt off your face." Harry returned momentarily with a damp washcloth, and though it was awkward, began to very gently wipe the dirt and mud off Draco's face.

Draco found himself staring into the vivid green eyes of his long-time enemy once again, but there was no longer any sign of enmity as Harry looked back at Draco as he wiped the blond boy's face. Draco was overwhelmed with the emotion of the situation. Here was his one-time enemy, and now the closest thing Draco had to a friend, taking care of Draco in a time of need. The part of Draco that belonged to Lucius Malfoy was livid, and screamed that this was all wrong. The much larger part of Draco, the real Draco Malfoy, felt all the pain and agony and fear and uncertainty of the last few weeks come pouring out of him. He began to cry silently, his body shaking as he tried to hold back the sobs that desperately were trying to escape. A single tear escaped from his eye. He felt an overwhelming need for human contact, to tell someone what he was dealing with, and he knew the only person who would understand was Harry Potter.

Harry noticed Draco begin to cry, and immediately stopped cleaning Draco's face. Harry wasn't sure if he was dreaming or not, but Draco was obviously going through a lot more than he was letting on to anyone. Draco opened his mouth to speak, trying desperately to keep his composure "I..." Draco didn't finish his sentence. Instead a great mournful wail escaped from the lips of the ever cool, calm, and collected Draco Malfoy, and he collapsed into a completely shocked Harry's grasp, sobbing loudly into the Gryffindor's shoulder.

Harry, quite naturally and without thinking about what he was doing, wrapped his arms around Draco. "Draco?" he said questioningly. He received no response. A moment later, after the shock had worn off, he felt very awkward. Here was Draco Malfoy –a person so cool and unemotional as to make Severus Snape look like a Care Bear - bawling his heart out and clinging to Harry as if he was hanging on for dear life. The only thing Harry could think of to do, as he stood there in the Slytherin fourth-year dormitory comforting the person who had been his worst rival and the person he hated second only to Voldemort mere weeks before, was to gently rub Draco's back as he held the other boy and say, "It's OK, Draco. Everything's going to be fine." They stood there for a very long time, Draco crying, and Harry wondering how and why the world had changed so drastically because of a Spade-Footed Gangletopper and a bunch of dirt.


	8. Brave New World

Author's Note: Greetings, all. I hope everyone that celebrates Thanksgiving enjoyed the Holiday. I took a break from posting for the holiday, but am happy to report that Chapter 9 should be up this week as well. A big thank you to everyone who reads, and especially to those that review or otherwise give feedback – it really helps my writing, and it's nice to hear from people! Now, on with the show…

Disclaimer: Not real, no money, don't own them, this is rated K+. No Malfoys were harmed in the creation of this work, mostly because they move too fast. Peter Pettigrew got it instead. I know that makes you happy.

**Chapter 8 – Brave New World**

It was quite some time later before Draco had finally cried himself out. Harry wasn't sure exactly how long it had been, but his stomach was now complaining loudly for food. Draco was still hanging on to Harry, who was growing distinctly weary of standing with the Slytherin boy clinging to him with all his might. Draco had quieted down, so Harry began to extricate himself from Draco's grasp. "Let me get another towel to wipe your face again." 'He looks absolutely horrible,' Harry thought as he returned to the bathroom.

Harry returned a moment later and began to wipe the tear stains from Draco's face. Neither boy spoke. Draco was too ashamed; Harry simply didn't know how to broach the subject on his mind. 'What was all that about?' Harry decided it would be better to leave it to Draco to address the issue when he was ready.

Draco and Harry continued to stare at each other silently for several moments, each trying to figure out what the other was thinking, before Harry finally ventured to speak. "Er….Draco, if you're better, I think I'll just go on down, I mean, up to lunch. Will you be alright?" Harry smiled at Draco in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. He had forgotten that he was in the Slytherin dungeons rather than Gryffindor tower and that it would be rather difficult to go "down" to lunch from there.

Draco tried to return the smile, a most difficult thing; smiling did not come naturally to him, and he was still very confused. He wanted to talk to Harry, but was beating himself up for being so emotional and for breaking down. Then he did a mental double-take. 'He called me Draco. Not Malfoy but Draco. And I'm not even mad about it. When did that happen?' Out loud he said, "Yes, I'm just going to take a shower first….er, thanks Harry." Draco spoke the other boy's name slowly, as if trying it out to see how it felt. Harry looked at Draco oddly at hearing the Slytherin call him by his first name, but the odd look quickly converted to a warm smile. To Draco's pleasant surprise the earth did not open up and swallow him whole for blaspheming against Saint Potter, Patron Saint of Gryffindor House and All Things Good. It even felt relatively natural to call Harry by his real name.

Harry nodded, "See you later then," and he headed out of Draco's room to the Great Hall. Harry was in a slight state of shock from the morning's events, and he wondered what exactly he would tell Ron and Hermione when he got to lunch. Harry thought about Draco's extreme inattention in History of Magic, and the escapade with the Gangletopper. Harry had fully expected Draco to go ballistic when the Gangletopper sprayed him with mud, and Draco had clearly been shocked, but he had not been angry. It was obvious, even to someone as relatively imperceptive as Harry, that Draco had a lot on his mind. 'How could he not? He's been through an awful lot, plus he has to worry about his sister, too. And why can I not find the blasted staircase out of this bloody dungeon!' Harry thought irritably as he realized he was lost yet again in the maze of passages that made up Slytherin house.

Harry continued to wander around the dungeons, getting more and more frustrated with each wrong turn, and each passing moment. 'At least it gives me time to think,' Harry thought as he found himself in a part of the castle he had never been in before.

Initially Harry had thought that Draco was dealing with everything pretty well. He seemed to be more or less his usual calm, collected self. Aside from their first meeting with Dumbledore at the Burrow, Draco had seemed remarkably normal. Harry snorted. 'Yeah, if you call being an uptight, obnoxious arsehole normal.' Better to say that Draco was being his usual Malfoy self. As Harry was not the most observant person under the best of circumstances, the chinks in Draco's armor had gone unnoticed by Harry until this morning. 'Thank Merlin I at least had enough of a clue to see I needed to get Draco out of there.' He had not, however, expected Draco to completely break down once Harry got him to the privacy of his dormitory. 'That has to have been one of the most awkward experiences of my existence.' Harry, being Harry, was fairly self-conscious naturally, especially in the wizarding world, where there still were quite a few things he didn't know. It was awkward having another boy bawling on your shoulder, even under the best of circumstances, but when that boy also happened to be Draco Malfoy, the person you've hated second only to Voldemort for the last three years, the awkward level increased by a factor of ten. Harry had been most thankful to whatever gods existed that the Slytherins had private bedrooms. 'I really just wanted to leave Draco there to deal with it all by himself – Merlin knows he deserves it - but I couldn't. I just couldn't.' This thought confused Harry, because he really didn't know where he stood with Draco Malfoy anymore. It had been a whole lot easier just to hate the Slytherin. Now, Draco had seen the error of his ways and was making a genuine effort to not live up to the Malfoy reputation. It was all very surreal for Harry. 'Really, once you get past the arrogance, the wealth, and the years and years of Lucius' upbringing, he's not a bad fellow. I think I could see how we could have been friends, if he hadn't been such a prick. Well, that's neither here nor there, and I still haven't found a way out of this blasted dungeon!' Harry sighed, thinking that he was never going to get out of the dungeon, when he turned a corner and at the end of the corridor saw the stairway leading up and out to the Great Hall.

Encouraged, Harry sped up to make for the staircase. He never saw the large pair of arms reach out from a doorway to grab him. Harry felt himself jerked suddenly sideways into what looked like an old, unused storage closet, and then thrown unceremoniously on the ground. Coughing and wheezing from the dust that had been disturbed by his ungraceful arrival, he adjusted his glasses and looked up. Crabbe and Goyle were standing over him, looking most ominous.

"What are you doing down here?" Crabbe said threateningly. "You're not allowed in the dungeons."

Unlike his previous run-in with Crabbe and Goyle, Harry was unprepared and did not have his wand at the ready; he was slightly apprehensive, but tried to hide it. With his best effort at an unconcerned, disdainful look, Harry replied, "As if that particularly mattered."

Goyle looked confused. Harry figured 'particularly' probably had a few syllables too many for Goyle to understand. Crabbe pressed on however. "Yeah, well I think it's time we paid you back for stopping our fun on the train yesterday."

Goyle seemed to understand this somewhat better, as he and Crabbe began advancing toward Harry who had been unable to put himself in any better position to defend himself. Normally Harry, who was a very powerful wizard, or at least would be a very powerful wizard one day, would have been more than a match for Crabbe and Goyle – he had defeated Lord Voldemort twice by the age of twelve after all – but he did not have the advantage on being on his feet, wand in hand. Harry was more than a little fearful.

"Let's see now," Harry heard a drawling voice behind him. "I think what I'm supposed to say here is 'one more step toward him, and you'll both be auditioning for lead soprano in the school choir.'" Harry had never thought he would be relieved to hear the voice of Draco Malfoy, but he was. Draco was standing in the doorway of the storage room wand out, much as Harry had been the day before.

Crabbe and Goyle gritted their teeth and growled with frustration. This was the second time someone had spoiled their fun, and they were not happy about it. Fortunately, Draco's appearance was enough of a delay for Harry to fish his wand out of his robes, though he was still on the floor. Crabbe and Goyle were not the fastest brooms on the Quidditch pitch, but they could tell they were seriously outclassed once again as Draco was also a formidable wizard-in-training.

"Maybe you two should just ease on out of here while you can still move under your own power. What do you think, Harry?" Draco asked in an almost conversational tone, and with his trademark smirk.

"Why, yes Draco, that sounds like a capital idea." Harry was wearing a smirk so similar to Draco's it was scary.

Crabbe and Goyle continued to clench and unclench their fists and grind their teeth together in frustration, but they edged toward the door. Draco stepped into the room and back against the wall to let them pass; his wand – and Harry's – remained pointed at the two gorilla-like Slytherins the entire time.

After Crabbe and Goyle made their somewhat hasty exit, Draco put his wand away and walked over to where Harry was still seated on the floor. "Merlin, Potter! I can't even let you out of my sight for an hour without you getting in trouble, and filthy to boot!" Draco extended his hand to help Harry off the floor.

Harry glared at Draco in response, but grasped the offered hand and stood up. "Hang on, Malfoy. If I recall correctly, it was me that saved your bloody arse last time." Harry was working up a head of steam when he saw that Draco was laughing. This was not the typical Malfoy-laughing-at-someones-expense laugh but a genuine-this-is-really-funny-in-a-good-way laugh. Harry thought it somewhat surreal coming from Draco, but couldn't help but smile himself.

"I, Potter. 'It was I', not 'it was me,'" Draco corrected automatically.

"Whatever, Malfoy. Thanks anyway for the help. I was wondering how I was going to get out of that one."

"I figured I could at least return the favor, but don't let it happen again."

Harry snorted. "I'll do my best." Together, the two boys headed out of the room and back up to the Great Hall to see what was left of lunch.

* * *

Malfoy Manor had become a most uninhabitable place since Draco's disappearance. Lucius Malfoy had locked Narcissa prisoner in Draco's suite of rooms. Lucius had threatened to place her under the Imperius curse if she put so much as one toe out of line, which included trying to communicate with Draco. Lucius was not so concerned with Ivy, for as far as he knew, she still followed his direction. 

Narcissa spent her days of imprisonment thinking some about the past, and mostly about her children. Narcissa didn't know what had happened to Lucius or why, but she knew that their days of happiness were long gone. Her marriage to Lucius Malfoy had never been a marriage of convenience. They had truly loved each other, a rare thing among marriages of pureblooded wizarding families. Narcissa knew that Lucius was now incapable of feeling any emotion even resembling love, and so she found solace in her children while continuing to keep up appearances in other aspects of her life.

Thoughts of Draco and Ivy brought a smile to the sad, elegant face of Narcissa Malfoy. She was so proud of Draco for standing up to Lucius, and she was very glad that her son had been able to hold on to something of the good upbringing that she and Lucius had tried to instill in their children before Lucius became so heavily involved in the workings of the Dark Lord. Narcissa was somewhat more concerned about Ivy. Though her children did not realize it, Narcissa had a good idea of just how close Ivy and Draco really were. She was after all their mother, and few things escape a mother's perception. She also knew that Ivy tended to take after her father, and she had been most upset when Ivy had been the one to inform Lucius of Draco and Narcissa's plan. She hoped that Draco would be able to set Ivy straight once they were away from Lucius' evil influence, and back at Hogwarts.

Narcissa held no illusion that she would be able to long survive the wrath of her husband. Whatever Lucius had felt for her at one point in their relationship was as dead as the soul of the handsome young man Narcissa had married so many years ago. She did feel sadness at the realization she was lost; she could only hope that she had somehow atoned for her wrongs by ensuring the future of her children.

Lucius spent his days at the Manor following the exodus of his only son and heir thinking some about where Draco had gone wrong, and mostly about how to get back in the good graces of the Dark Lord. He was furious - absolutely and terrifyingly furious - that Draco had dared to disobey him. His initial reaction had been to make good on his threat to place Draco under the Imperius curse and force him to kill his own mother. In the end, Lucius realized that would serve little long-term purpose, and smacked a little too much of Greek tragedy to be a palatable solution.

The summons to attend the Dark Lord had come just three days after Draco had been abducted by Severus Snape. Lucius Malfoy did not often have trouble controlling his emotion, but the summons to the Riddle mansion had left Lucius dry-mouthed and more weak in the knees than he cared to admit. It had been a painful interrogation with the Dark Lord, who though still very weak, at least had attained some kind of corporeal form, and was thus capable of inflicting no small amount of pain. Lucius apparated to the mansion alone.

"Ah, Lucius, my most trusted servant. You are alone?" The Dark Lord had asked in a voice that made Lucius' blood run cold.

"Yes, my Lord. Draco has been…abducted." Lucius was still on one knee, having knelt in obeisance to Voldemort. He risked a glance up at the ugly figure in the chair, and suppressed a shudder of fear and disgust.

"Abducted? Is that so? By whom?" Voldemort's tone was dangerous; Lucius was even more fearful.

"By…by Severus Snape, my Lord." The curse that followed had left Lucius shaking and breathless on the floor for several minutes. It was only the fact that Lucius had been able to impart information about his fellow Death Eater that saved him from being annihilated on the spot.

"That, Lucius, was for allowing yourself to be deceived by a traitor and a thirteen year old boy." Lucius did not respond, but merely nodded in assent.

"This makes it much more difficult the necessary preparations for my full return to power. We will now have to devise some other method for ensnaring Harry Potter."

"Of course, my Lord." Lucius thought it best to continue to be amenable.

"Well, Lucius, in the meantime, to give you an opportunity to earn my trust once again, I will set you a task."

"What would you have me do, my Lord?" Lucius was not sure if he should be grateful or afraid. He eventually settled on grateful; he would not be killed this night.

"You will find information on and locate the whereabouts of an ancient relic known as the Dragon's Tear. The spell necessary to return me to full strength speaks of it as a requirement."

"Of course, my Lord. It will be as you say." Lucius was backing slowly out of the room, hoping to avoid being cursed again.

"For your sake, Lucius, I hope so." Lucius Malfoy made it safely from the room one more time, but not without hearing Peter Pettigrew, who had been hovering at the edge of the room, listening to the conversation, screaming in agony at being hit with the curse Lucius was almost certain had been intended for him.

* * *

Upon his return to Malfoy Manor, Lucius had immersed himself in the secret room for several days under the living room that housed the Malfoy family library, an impressive collection of many, many volumes. Not all of them were related to the Dark Arts. Narcissa, noting her husband's conspicuous absence, wondered what terrible thing he was planning to do next. 

Harry and Draco arrived together in the Great Hall, but separated to eat lunch with their respective Houses. No one seemed to have noticed their joint arrival. Hermione and Ron were just finishing up, but they had a few minutes before Charms class, and they decided to wait for Harry to scarf down a quick bite.

"What was all that about mate?" Ron asked as Harry hastily made a sandwich. Hermione put down her book to listen, but Harry felt himself a little reluctant to divulge the details of Draco's emotional episode in the dungeons.

"Oh…er…you know…I just had to help Draco get cleaned up and all. Well, actually Crabbe and Goyle tried to pull a repeat of what happened on the train yesterday, but fortunately Draco walked in at the right moment, so nothing came of it."

Ron and Hermione were both staring at Harry open-mouthed. "What? Did I grow a third eye or something?"

"Draco?" Ron asked in a very high voice, half-shouting. "You're calling him Draco now? What are you thinking Harry!" Ron was getting louder by the minute. "This is Malfoy we're talking about. You know, the git that tried to scare you off your broom last year and kill you!"

"Ron, he's a different person now, just calm down, alright?" Harry desperately looked to Hermione for backup. She was still speechless, a rare occurrence for the bushy-haired girl.

"I bloody well will NOT calm down!" Ron shouted. He had gone very red in the face, and Harry knew he was in for it. "My best friend is consorting with the enemy and you expect me to calm down! I'm going to get ready for Charms class." Ron stormed off leaving Harry and Hermione stunned in his wake.

"You have to admit Harry, it is a bit of a shock that you and Malfoy seem to be getting on pretty well."

"Why is it so strange?" Harry asked in frustration. "He's told us he doesn't want to become a dark wizard, his family has disowned him, his housemates are trying to kill him, and he's having a hard time. He needs friends Hermione, and I promised Dumbledore I would be a friend."

"Harry, you're a wonderful person, and one of the most wonderful things about you is that you have an amazing capacity to forgive people who have wronged you. You just don't really hold a grudge that often. The other thing is that you have a great desire to help people who need help, no matter the cost to yourself. Most of us aren't that good at those things, so it takes us a little longer to accept things like you and Malfoy maybe becoming friends. Give Ron some time, he'll come around. You know he will." Hermione smiled at her best friend. He really was an amazing person. Who else would have been able to treat one of their worst enemies in such a gentle, friendly, caring manner than Harry Potter?

"OK, Herm. I guess you're right. It doesn't make it very easy, though. Not that my life has ever been easy." Harry sighed.

"Oh, Harry, you know you've always got us."

"I know, and I'm really glad." It was true. Harry was really glad he had two best friends like Ron and Hermione. He really should tell them that more often. "We should get to Charms class. We'll be late if we don't hurry."

Hermione and Harry exited the Great Hall together. Harry glanced over at Draco who was also finishing his late lunch. Their eyes met, and Harry smiled tentatively. Draco still looked a little wrung out, but he returned Harry's smile briefly. Harry wondered if he and Draco were really becoming friends, and what kind of friend Draco might prove to be.

Draco caught up with Hermione and Harry on the way to Charms. "Hey you two, wait up a bit," he drawled. Harry and Hermione turned to wait on the Slytherin and together they walked to Charms, chatting idly about their morning classes. Eventually, Hermione changed to subject to a more sensitive matter.

"So, Mal…er, Draco, I hope you didn't suffer any lasting damage from the Gangletopper in Care of Magical Creatures." Hermione wasn't really sure what to say. She knew that Care of Magical Creatures was a sensitive subject with the Slytherin boy, especially after the incident with Buckbeak the year before. She also knew that Draco probably didn't appreciate everyone laughing at him.

Draco was not particularly happy about Hermione's choice of conversational topics. He was even less happy about the fact that the muggle-born girl had addressed Draco by his first name. Before responding, Draco considered why he felt such bitterness toward Hermione. Draco had always been an excellent student, but Hermione had managed to beat him or tie him in every class, a fact that had irritated Draco's father and caused Draco no small amount of pain and torment. If you could overlook her know-it-all-attitude and the fact that she was Muggle-born (a fact that Draco really thought he should get over) then Hermione was fairly likeable. Thinking about his interactions with the Gryffindor girl, Draco also realized that ever since Draco had chosen to forsake the path that led to being a Death Eater, Hermione had treated him with nothing but kindness. She hadn't even laughed at him that morning in Care of Magical Creatures.

Accordingly, Draco responded in a manner that was much more polite then he really felt at the moment. He had made his peace with Harry; they even had what Draco would have considered a fledgling friendship; that should have been enough for one day. He did wonder, however, if Harry had told his two best friends about Draco's episode. He risked a glance at Harry, who seemed to have read Draco's mind, for the dark-haired boy met his glance and shook his head in the negative just slightly. Draco felt a wave of relief – and gratitude toward the other boy – sweep over him. "Erm, yes Granger, there was no lasting damage. Well, I think that set of robes may be ruined, but at least the Gangletopper wasn't a rabid Hippogriff or anything." Harry and Hermione managed a weak smile in response, and Draco realized that it probably wasn't that funny a joke to them.

About that time, they rounded the last corner before arriving at the Charms classroom. Ron was waiting outside the door. He did not look happy, and became even less so when he saw his two best friends chatting more-or-less amiably with Draco Malfoy. Harry saw Ron's expression. "Uh-oh, this is going to be bad." Draco and Hermione looked at Ron and the three of them froze, each wearing a deer-in-the-headlights expression.

Ron launched himself off the wall and stormed toward the three other students. "What the bloody hell is going on here! Don't tell me you three have become best mates now! I can't even believe this. He tried to kill you Harry! And Hermione, we heard him say he hoped the basilisk from the Chamber of Secrets killed you, too!"

Harry tried to keep his voice calm and quiet as his best friend's temper was legendary. "Ron, please. Draco's not like that anymore. You know that. We're not best mates. He has this class too, you know, so he just happened to be walking this way at the same time." Hermione and Draco remained quiet. Hermione didn't want to come between her two best friends; Draco simply didn't know what to do. Part of him wanted to beat Weasley to a pulp, part of him was amazed that Harry had stuck up for him, part of him was hurt by Harry's innocent statement 'We're not best mates.'

Just then, Professor Flitwick arrived and began to usher the students into class. "Fine. Whatever." Ron finished and stormed into the classroom, seating himself next to Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas. Hermione, Harry, and Draco all exchanged an uneasy glance and found seats as well.

Charms passed slowly with Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco each immersed more in their own thoughts than what was happening in the class. As the bell rang, Ron made a hasty exit with several of the other Gryffindors, and Harry, Hermione and Draco walked in silence to Transfiguration.

Transfiguration passed in much the same way as charms until Professor McGonagall made a reference to Animagi. While everyone had been slightly more attentive in this class than in Charms, four sets of ears perked up at the mention of this subject.

"The Animagus transformation," Professor McGonagall was saying from the front of the class, "is one of the more difficult skills to master. It is very different from simply transfiguring an inanimate object, or even an animal, because the person must effectively cast the spell on themselves. Very few people are even able to successfully become Animagi. It requires significant magical ability that cannot be learned. It must be innate. As such we will only be studying it in this class from a theoretical perspective." The three Gryffindors plus Draco all traded glances – even Ron, who appeared to be cooling down somewhat. Hermione's determined look seemed to express what all of them were thinking, 'If we're going to do this; we'll have to do it on our own.'

The four students agreed to meet in the library after dinner to work on assignments and such as Draco still needed help writing. Ron was not happy about the arrangement, but he reluctantly agreed. "Just don't expect me to talk to that git Malfoy." Harry sincerely hoped that his best friend and Draco would at least come to some kind of understanding. He did not like being caught in the middle of things, and judging by Hermione's look of unease, she didn't either.

With an hour or so to kill before dinner, Harry decided to head down to the Quidditch pitch for a bit of flying. It was too early in the year for practice to start, but Harry had only gotten to fly while at the Burrow the last month of the summer.

Flying always made Harry feel good. It was one of the few places where he felt free. Up in the air soaring through the clouds and sun he was free from all the worries and troubles of life that seemed to press down and suffocate him. He didn't have to worry about school, or being the Boy-Who-Lived, or Death Eaters, or Voldemort, or anything. He could simply fly, and be "just Harry" for a short time once more.

'Perhaps that's why everyone says I'm such a good flier, because when I'm flying is when I'm truly myself.' Harry smiled at the thought and did a loop-the-loop, just because he could.

Dinner passed uneventfully. Ron apologized to Harry, saying he was just having a little trouble getting used to the idea of Draco Malfoy as a nice guy. Harry waved off the apology. Ron was his best friend, and they had disagreements from time to time, but that was simply part of life. The three Gryffindors headed to the library to begin working on the night's homework. Draco showed up a short time later and sat down next to Harry and across from Hermione. Ron eyed Draco suspiciously but nodded his head by way of greeting, and then went back to his History of Magic essay – Professor Binns had assigned four rolls of parchment on the implications of the Great Niffler Inbreeding on the Decree Concerning Non-human Reproduction and Husbandry of 1590.

Surprisingly, the four students worked fairly well together, and even Ron and Draco managed to be cordial to each other. Harry figured this primarily the result of not having to write out Draco's homework for the Slytherin.

"I suppose you'll need us to write your essay for you, Malfoy." Ron had asked shortly. "I guess I should do that since Harry's been making sure you're in class on time and all that." Ron looked as if he didn't really relish the prospect of having to write another four rolls of parchment, especially if it was being dictated to him by Draco Malfoy.

"Actually, Weasley, I have one of those Quick-Quotes Quills, so I figured I'd just dictate to it."

"Really? What a relief. Of course we still have to listen to you dictate, but I honestly didn't know how I was going to be able to write another four rolls anyway." Ron was happy to be off the hook.

Harry was proud of Draco for making a genuine effort to be nice to Ron. He knew how much they disliked each other. "I'd planned to dictate in my room tonight after we got done here. I have enough ideas from our discussion that it should go fairly quickly." Draco sounded a little perturbed at having to be so accommodating, but it was a good sign, Harry thought.

An hour or so later, the three Gryffindors had finished their essays. Harry was relieved that it had been a low-stress evening. He decided to broach a slightly more interesting subject than History of Magic. "So what did you guys think of what McGonagall said today about Animagi? Doesn't sound like the easiest thing in the world does it?"

"No, it doesn't," Ron agreed. "What does the Animagi book say about it Hermione?"

Hermione was the only one that had actually done any actual reading of the book Sirius had given Harry for his birthday.

"Honestly, if you three would read it for yourselves, you wouldn't have to ask me questions all the time." Hermione rolled her eyes, but began digging through her bag for the book in question.

"But Hermione, you know how much we love when you get all teacherish on us." Ron wiggled his eyebrows at Hermione while Draco and Harry tried not to be sick.

"Yeah, we're rapt with attention," Draco said deadpan. Ron and Harry both chuckled, which surprised Draco; Hermione looked annoyed.

"Well, it certainly agrees with everything McGonagall told us today in class. It is a difficult spell to perform. Only relatively powerful wizards can do it successfully. It does add, however, that especially powerful wizards can have up to three forms." With that statement Hermione, Ron, and Draco all looked at Harry, who turned bright red.

"What?" he said self-consciously.

"Oh, come off it, Potter. Everyone knows you're just about the most powerful wizard around, at least that's our age." Draco sounded slightly annoyed; he had used Harry's last name. Harry wasn't really offended, though.

"He's got a point, Harry. You are a powerful wizard, so you may have more than one animal form." Hermione continued reading, "It also says that most wizards do at least have some influence over the initial choice of their animal form. That must have been how Sirius and your Dad were able to choose forms big enough to keep Professor Lupin in check, and, er, Peter Pettigrew a small form to open the passage under the Whomping Willow."

Harry simply nodded in agreement. The memory of the events of last year, and the pain of finding out the truth about his parents' betrayal was a little too fresh on his mind to trust himself to speak. Draco found himself feeling sorry for Harry. 'That's an emotion I'm not used to,' Draco thought to himself. It was like, for the first time, Draco was hearing all these things about Harry and realizing that this wasn't Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, who had defeated Voldemort on multiple occasions; he was simply Harry the fourteen-year-old boy who had never known his family, grew up with muggles who mistreated him, and Draco thought, was still amazingly naïve about many things. In spite of being dealt a very short hand in life Harry had done remarkably well. Draco wondered about his own past, and if he could say that he had weathered the storm as well as the Gryffindor boy. Draco had a sinking suspicion this was not the case.

"So…how do we 'pick' our forms, and how do we actually do the transformation?" Harry clearly wanted to shift the focus of the conversation away from himself, as was usually the case.

"Harry, it's not like you just say 'I want to be a badger' and poof there you are." Hermione replied. "It's a complicated process. At least according to the book it is. There's a potion in here we can brew that will help us tell what our form will most likely be. Hmmm….it takes a couple of weeks to get ready."

"I'll handle that," Draco volunteered. He was even better than Hermione at brewing potions; where she was capable, Draco was truly passionate about it.

"I'll help," Harry volunteered. Draco glared at him, one eyebrow raised, and it was Hermione and Ron's turn to laugh.

"Harry, no offense, but you're almost as bad at potions as Neville," Ron said between snickers.

"Thanks, Ron. I was kinda hoping Draco would give me some pointers. I'm not that bad really, Snape just gets to me, that's all. And besides, Draco still can't use his right arm." Harry pretended to be offended, but he knew Ron was right.

"Fine," Draco assented grudgingly, still glaring suspiciously at Harry, "but you will follow my instructions to the letter or I will kick you out of my lab. Just because I can't use my right arm doesn't mean I'll tolerate your shoddy work."

Hermione handed the book to Draco, and the four began to gather their things when Fred and George popped into the library. "Ah, there you are Harry," Harry thought it was George who spoke first.

"Dumbledore asked to see you in his office," Fred finished.

"Er…now?" Harry said, perplexed.

"Yeah, and do you know how much harder it is to see you since we gave you the Marauder's Map…oops…shouldn't have said that, should I?" Fred punched George in the arm.

"Marauder's Map?" Draco asked, suspicious again.

Harry sighed. "I'll tell you later. I'll check in on you after I finish talking to Dumbledore, unless Ron wants to help you get settled for the evening."

Ron shook his head vigorously, and Draco glared at the red-headed boy. "I'll see you two up in the tower later. Thanks Fred, thanks George for the message," Harry continued.

"No problem, Harry. Hope you're not completely busted." The twins both laughed and Harry followed them out of the library, wondering what the Headmaster could possibly want.


	9. Discoveries and Rediscoveries

Author's Note: Hello Once Again, Sports Fans. Here's Chapter 9 for you. Thought I'd make up for not keeping my "Chapter a week" commitment by getting this one posted early. As always feedback, good or bad, is welcome, as are ideas and suggestions (especially for sub-plots) to incorporate into the story. Enjoy. Now for the usual…

Disclaimer: this isn't my day job, it's just fun; only the original characters belong to me; this is rated 'K+'. No characters were harmed in creation of this work, in fact, it's rather a kinder, gentler chapter guided by a thousand points of light…wait, that's not right…sorry, I was channeling George Bush, Sr. There for a moment.

Don't hold it against me.

**Chapter 9 – Discoveries and Rediscoveries**

Brandon Marion stood before the entrance to the Headmaster's Office for only the second time in his life. The first had been several days earlier, upon his arrival at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had been most surprised to receive a letter from the Headmaster inviting him to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at the school. He didn't entirely understand why a British boarding school for witches- and wizards-in-training would want him to be a professor.

It was true that Brandon was fairly skilled in the subject matter. Compared to Britain, however, the United States had a much quieter magical history, and while the British Ministry of Magic had been dealing with the Voldemort threat on and off for the better part of two decades, things had been relatively quiet in the US. In fact, though the US was much larger than Great Britain, the Department of Magic and Paranormal Occurrences (DMPO) was much smaller than its British counterpart. Thus it was that Brandon couldn't imagine that Albus Dumbledore hadn't been able to find a more qualified candidate, particularly in the British Isles.

Brandon had grown up in the southeastern part of the United States. Brandon did not remember much about his childhood before the age of thirteen, except that he had been raised by distant cousins rather than his parents. He had never been told what had happened to them; only that they had died, and he had been sent to live with his cousins. One thing Brandon did remember from his childhood was that people had often noticed, as Brandon did himself, that Brandon had a strange accent. It more or less disappeared as Brandon got older, but Brandon had never been able to figure out why he talked differently than everyone else. All in all, it had not been a bad childhood, as he really didn't remember his parents. He did hope that one day he would find out what really happened to them.

Brandon thought for a moment about his cousins. He was really quite sketchy on the details of his extended family. He knew that his grandfather on his mother's side had married into a wizarding family with two daughters; his grandmother and her sister, his Great Aunt Penelope. Penelope's oldest son and his wife had been the ones who raised Brandon. They had been slightly younger than Brandon's parents, but significantly older than Brandon. Brandon thought this made his adoptive family (The Taylors) his second cousins once removed. They were good people, and they were family, and Brandon supposed that he loved them, but he had not ever really been close to them. The Taylors had two teenage sons, Brent and Jason, who were sixteen and fourteen now.

Brandon was slightly apprehensive as to how his fellow professors and the students would react to having an American on the staff, particularly one as youthful as he. Prior to accepting the position at Hogwarts, Brandon had been an Auror for the DMPO. An Auror was kind of the wizarding world equivalent of an FBI agent. Americans, being slightly overboard about pretty much everything, required their Aurors to complete significant paramilitary training, similar to what a police academy cadet would go through, in addition to all the rigors of magical training. The irony of this was that Brandon was often bored with his work, as the amount of time the presence of an Auror was actually required in the US was very little. This left Brandon plenty of time to indulge his interests, and so he traveled extensively, researching all the various myths and legends related to magic and wizards in various countries. His current project was an investigation of some of the ancient magical sites in Spain.

Spain fascinated Brandon perhaps more than any other country he had visited yet. It was certainly more exciting, magically speaking, than his native Kentucky. Not only did you have the mystical influence of the Arabs that made their way across the Strait of Gibraltar during the Middle Ages, you also had the influence of the old Roman Empire, and even prior to that the Phoenicians, and even earlier peoples. Brandon had spent much time stumbling through ruins of old castles and churches looking for relics of bygone eras and kingdoms, trying to piece together the history that had taken place there, always searching out the subtle, semi-transparent influence of magic in the more mundane recorded history, reading between the lines of illuminated manuscripts, old legal documents, and even random pieces of vellum or parchment passed down from father to son through the ages so that the magic-folk, of times so far gone as to be nearly forgotten, would have a voice once more.

Obviously, in the course of his traveling Brandon had ample opportunity to put his often atrophied Auror skills to the test, as there were frequently less-than-amiable folk on similar quests to those he undertook. This had served to make him even more valuable to the DMPO, and they were sorry to see him go. In one sense, Brandon was sorry to leave as well, for enjoyed his job, but deep down, he felt it was time for something different.

All of these thoughts passed very quickly through Brandon's head as he stood in front of the phoenix statue that marked the entrance to the Headmaster's office. And yet, something nagged at him. There was something familiar about this statue, this castle, this school that went beyond that of a second impression, as it were. Brandon thought for a moment, but couldn't quite place the feeling of familiarity. He frowned, then shrugged and spoke the password. It wouldn't do to keep the Headmaster waiting.

Headmaster Dumbledore was standing in front of his Phoenix, Fawkes, and appeared to be engaged in conversation with the bird as Brandon entered the office. "Ah, Professor Marion. Please have a seat." The Headmaster conjured a chair out of the air with his wand and placed it in front of his desk. "You are getting settled in I trust?"

"Yes, sir. Classes went rather well today, considering it was my first time on the teacher's side of the desk." Brandon couldn't help but smile. He had been very nervous, but his first class of the day had been a combination of Hufflepuff and Gryffindor first years, and they were just as scared as their professor. It had gone well, Brandon thought. Apparently, the British method of teaching was rather different from the American, and therefore rather different from his own as well. Maybe the students would appreciate a little variety in their schooling.

"Excellent! And your quarters are satisfactory?" Dumbledore queried again as he drew another chair to place in front of the desk.

"Oh, yes sir. It's a little different from what I'm used to but I think it will suit me just fine." Brandon had been allocated a spacious apartment off one of the hallways leading to Gryffindor tower. It was located near to Professor McGonagall's apartment, a fact that seemed to annoy the Deputy Headmistress. Brandon had not asked for what was obviously a fairly prestigious location, but Professor Dumbledore insisted on the assignment, saying that given the new Professor's relative youth, the students might find it easier to identify with Brandon than other professors, and therefore might be more inclined to visit the professor if his apartment were fairly centrally located.

Moving into what amounted to a medieval castle had been a bit of an adjustment for the young professor. His cousins had owned a rather spacious home surrounded by woods in Kentucky, and after Brandon finished school and Auror training he had bought a small cottage, also on a significant amount of acreage. Really, his apartment at the school was larger than his cottage in Kentucky; it was the lack of land that had been an adjustment. The walls of the castle were thick enough that noise was not an issue. Brandon had simply become used to looking out a window and being able to see into the woods, and that was not going to be the case in a castle.

Brandon's apartment was really three rooms. The main room was a combination sitting room and dining room, with overstuffed leather couches that were well-kept, but older than Brandon. It also had what appeared to be an ancient solid oak dining table with four chairs. Being a castle, it also had a fireplace, and as the floor and walls were stone, there were numerous rugs and tapestries to keep down noise and keep in warmth. To the left, as you entered the main room was the bedroom. The bedroom was easily the size of the main room, complete with four-poster bed, dresser, nightstands, and even a wardrobe. There was also a bathroom adjoining the bedroom. The third room was a library. This room had bookcases from floor to ceiling on every wall excepting the one with yet another fireplace. It had several chairs placed strategically around the hearth, as well as a writing desk where Brandon did the majority of his grading and writing. Brandon had decided that though he needed to make a few slight changes in order to make it "his", it would do nicely.

"Wonderful. I know that Great Britain is quite a change from Kentucky, but I trust if you need anything you will let me know." Dumbledore smiled in a rather fatherly way at his newest professor. He genuinely hoped that this one would be able to stay longer than a year, for more reasons than the simple hassle of finding a replacement.

"Yes, sir. I will."

"Now, you are undoubtedly wondering the real reason you are here in my office, and I will be more than happy to bring you up to speed on that as soon as my other guest arrives. I do believe you will be most anxious to meet him."

At that point, they heard the staircase begin to move once more. "Ah, here he is now." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as if he alone were privy to some cosmic joke as he stood to greet the new visitor.

Brandon stood as well, and as he turned he saw a rather skinny boy with extremely messy jet black hair ascending the stairs. Brandon felt his stomach give a slight lurch. 'I feel like I should know this boy, but I can't quite place him.' Upon closer examination, the boy had very green eyes, round glasses and a remarkable scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on his forehead. Brandon's stomach gave another lurch, almost as if he was in some sort of weird dream. 'If you change the eye color, take away the scar, and make the hair brown, this boy looks much as I did when I was that age. The height and build and the facial features are much the same – even the way he walks and carries himself. Something very odd is going on here.' Brandon's own eyes were rather enigmatic – they tended to change color according to his mood, and his hair was brown. He kept it short enough to manage, but if he had continued to keep his hair long, as he did when he was younger, you would have noticed that it was as unruly as this boy's. Unlike this boy, Brandon wore contact lenses, though he had worn glasses in his younger days.

Harry had been surprised to receive the summons to the Headmaster's office. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he had a feeling that something was up, and it made him slightly nervous. Harry made his way quickly to the Headmaster's office, gave the password, and ascended the stairs. When he arrived in the office proper, he was surprised to see the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor with Dumbledore. For some reason, this made him more uneasy. Harry looked at the DADA professor more closely as he made his way to the open seat. He wasn't sure what it was, but something made Harry think that he knew this man. People always told him that he looked just like his father, but something made him think that the new DADA professor, with a few subtle changes, could have very easily been an older version of Harry as well. It was most unsettling.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Harry asked as he stood before the desk.

"Yes, Harry, thank you for joining us. I would like you to meet the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. Professor Marion, this is Harry Potter; I am certain you have heard the name."

"Yes, I have. It's nice to meet you, Harry." Brandon extended his hand and called Harry by his first name. Harry couldn't help but think that these were peculiarly American things to do. He found it pleasantly informal, and gladly returned the handshake.

"Nice to meet you as well, Professor." Harry's statement was genuine. For some reason, he found the American a very…comfortable…person. He was not stuck on protocol, but somehow managed to still be polite and respectful, even to a student. Most of all, he wasn't overawed by the fact that Harry was…well, Harry.

"Why don't we sit down, and chat for a bit. Tea? Lemon Drop? Nutty Ho-ho?" Dumbledore offered.

The new professor spoke up, somewhat sheepishly, "Actually, Headmaster, if you have some coffee, that would be perfect. I've not quite had my fill for the day." Harry was reminded of how much Draco Malfoy loved coffee, and he wondered what the Slytherin was up to at the moment.

"Of course." Dumbledore clapped his hands, and a silver tray with coffee, cream, and sugar appeared on the table between the professor and Harry. Professor Marion helped himself.

"I would like to tell the two of you a story," Dumbledore continued on as Professor Marion doctored his coffee. "Harry, I wish to apologize in advance, for I must briefly review for Professor Marion the details of your parents' death. Also, before I begin, I have no doubt that the story I'm about to tell you will raise many questions in your minds. Please wait till I have finished before asking them. It will be much easier."

Dumbledore was no longer the kindly, joking Headmaster. He was dead serious. Harry swallowed nervously, but nodded. Brandon just looked slightly nonplussed.

"As you know, Harry, your parents were killed on October 31, 1981 by Lord Voldemort, but he was unable to kill you. Voldemort was forced to flee, a mere shadow of his former self as a result of the curse he cast at you rebounding back. You also know after the events of last year that Peter Pettigrew was the one responsible for your parents' betrayal, not Sirius Black, who is your Godfather."

Harry nodded. Professor Marion was paying close attention, a perplexed look on his face. "What you do not know is that your grandparents, that is, your Father's parents, were killed shortly after your parents were killed. They were killed by followers of Lord Voldemort – Death Eaters – seeking revenge for Voldemort's apparent defeat."

Brandon Marion had gone deathly white; Harry opened his mouth as if to speak, but Dumbledore held up his hand. "Please let me continue. Harry, your parents had gone into hiding using the _Fidelius_ charm, and as they had been betrayed by their secret-keeper, Peter Pettigrew, Voldemort had been able to find them. There is a variation of the _Fidelius_ charm that has a slightly different effect. It is the _Fidelius Obliviarum_ charm. The full implications of this charm have never been determined, but the primary difference between it and _Fidelius_ is that when the second charm is performed the person or persons on whom the charm is performed cease to exist, in effect, for everyone except the secret keeper. It is a very difficult charm, but when I learned of your parents and grandparents I performed the _Fidelius Obliviarum_ charm on your uncle." With that statement, Dumbledore indicated Brandon Marion, who looked as if he were a ghost.

There was silence for nearly a minute as the professor struggled to grasp what he was hearing, and Harry did the same. "Do you remember now, Brandon?" Dumbledore asked the DADA gently as he looked in his direction.

"I…I…" Brandon was speechless which was understandable under the circumstances. It was as if he had been blinded, but his sight was returning slowly. He began to remember bits and pieces of his life before he lived with his cousins. He remembered Hogwarts, and the Headmaster, and his parents, and his brother James. He remembered that James had a son, who had been just a year old when James and Lily had been killed. Brandon turned and looked at Harry as if seeing him for the first time, but said nothing.

Harry was getting tired of being surprised at things. "You mean, _he's my uncle?" _Harry was nearly yelling as he waved an arm at Brandon. Part of Harry was very, very angry at Dumbledore for keeping this from him; part of him was happy as he had never been. Harry's father had a younger brother – Harry's _uncle_ – who was here, alive, sitting in the room with Harry.

"Yes, let me explain a little further, and maybe Professor Marion, well, Professor Potter, actually, will be able to gather his thoughts enough to speak intelligently." Dumbledore smiled in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Your Uncle Brandon was in his first year when his elder brother James was in his seventh. Your mother and father married shortly after leaving Hogwarts and thus it was between your uncle's second and third years that you were born."

"Second year…I remember…I was Seeker after James left school. I wouldn't play on the team while he was in school – he was too intimidating, but after he left I tried out, and was made Seeker." Brandon interjected, surprised at the words coming out of his own mouth.

"Yes you were. And you were as good a Seeker as your elder brother, who had trained you well. Harry, your parents were killed not long after your uncle began his fourth year here at school, and I immediately performed the _Fidelius Obliviarum_ charm and sent him to America to live with his cousins who were related to your uncle by marriage through your father's family, Harry. Given that he was fourteen and the schooling system is different in America than it is here, he was able to start his first year at what the Americans call 'High School' more or less on schedule and without any trouble."

"I remember that night. I was in the Gryffindor Common Room with a couple of friends and you…you came to the Common Room and sat on the couch and spoke to me very gently. I had never seen you in the Common Room before and so I knew it must have been very bad. I remember not really understanding what was going on, but I remember you telling me that I needed to go stay with family in America for a while."

"That's correct, Brandon. And after I administered the charm, though you don't remember it I gave you a Lethe potion to make you forget your past life until such time as I or someone else jogged certain key memories and brought everything back to the surface."

Harry had been quiet for some time, but now he spoke up. "Excuse me, Professor, but why did you have to send him to America? With you as the secret-keeper wouldn't a regular _Fidelius_ charm have been sufficient?"

"No, Harry, it wouldn't. Though I would never have revealed the whereabouts of your uncle, under the _Fidelius _charm, other people that knew your uncle could have at least revealed his existence. If the Death Eaters had learned of your uncle's existence, they would have continued exacting revenge on people until they found him and murdered him."

"But they already knew he existed, Headmaster," Harry countered. All of this new information was quite confusing to him.

"That's true, Harry, they did. But once I applied the charm, it was as if your uncle had never existed, meaning that everyone that knew about Brandon Potter, including the Death Eaters, forgot, with the exception of me."

"Oh. Wow."

"Precisely," Dumbledore nodded in agreement.

"Why bring me back now, Headmaster? It just happened to be a convenient time, or what?" Brandon was still trying to take all this in, but he was beginning to be slightly miffed at being left at the whim of the Headmaster with regard to getting his memory back.

"Actually, no, I have several good reasons. First, as time passes, and young Harry here grows up, it has occurred to me that having the presence of his father's brother in his life would be most beneficial for Harry, especially given that we're uncertain how long his godfather will be absent. Second, I made the decision to so radically impact your life with much hesitation, and it has always been my intention to restore you to your birthright and heritage at the first opportunity. Third, I have received information that Lord Voldemort has become aware of the existence of the Dragon's Tear, and as you have spent much time researching that particular artifact, I felt that your expertise would also be most beneficial to those of us who are standing against Voldemort and his Death Eaters."

"That's understandable, Headmaster, and I'm thankful for what you've done for both Harry and myself. It's just a little hard to digest, if you get my drift."

"Your drift?" Harry interrupted.

"Sorry, Harry, it's an American phrase I picked up somewhere. It means 'if you understand what I mean.'

"You know, I once met a wizard from Texas," Dumbledore interjected with a chuckle, "I always thought I was being rather clever when I used the phrase 'if you get my drift' for it is very American. His response was always 'I smell what you're stepping in.' I've just now figured out that he was telling me he did get my drift, so to speak. How delightful!"

Harry and Professor Marion exchanged a glance. The professor was smiling indulgently; Harry just looked confused. "I'll explain later," Professor Marion whispered.

"At any rate, Brandon, I do understand what you mean. And I ask your forgiveness for making such weighty decisions about your life; I only did what I felt best."

"No forgiveness necessary sir. This is just such a shock."

"Now there is one other thing I must tell the two of you about this particular charm. Even though you remember who you are Brandon, and even though you and I know who he is, Harry, no one else will remember who your uncle really is unless he or I or someone who knows his real identity tell them. Given the circumstances under which your uncle left England, and why he is here now, we must be very careful to whom and under what conditions we divulge his identity. Understood?"

Harry and Professor Marion both nodded.

"Excellent! Perhaps we should continue this discussion another time. I have the feeling that you two may want to acquaint yourselves, and I find that with age comes the need for retiring early."

"Of course, Headmaster. Come on, Harry, I'll walk you back to the Gryffindor Common Room. I haven't visited it yet since I've…well, since I've returned." Professor Marion winked at Harry, who tried to smile; this was all very difficult to process.

Harry and his uncle descended the stairs together. Dumbledore watched the last surviving Potters leave and thought, 'I do hope I did the right thing those many years ago, and again the last three with the decisions I've had to make for Harry.' He smiled sadly thinking of the hard decisions so often made necessary by the need to simply survive, and then headed slowly for his bedroom.

Harry and his uncle walked silently toward Gryffindor tower. Brandon could sense that his nephew – 'Now that's an odd thought. I have a nephew,' – was trying to come to terms with this new information, and figured that Harry would speak when he felt ready. Brandon took the opportunity to examine his nephew once again. 'He seems underfed, but more or less well. The eyes are pure Lily, but how like my brother he looks.' Thinking of his dead brother made Brandon very sad. 'James…' he thought to himself as they walked. 'I haven't thought of you for twelve years. How I miss you.' Brandon now remembered very clearly his elder brother, the fun they had when they were younger; how jealous Brandon had been when James had gone off to Hogwarts for his first year; how annoyed James had been when Brandon had finally been old enough to go to Hogwarts himself and had been his elder brother's constant shadow, nearly always underfoot. Brandon swore to himself that he would pour all the love he had for his dead brother into his relationship with Harry, if the boy would permit. In spite of his best efforts, tears began to well in Brandon's eyes, and he surreptitiously tried to wipe them without being too obvious.

Harry noticed his uncle's attempt to hide his emotions. 'This is as difficult for him as it for me. This is my Dad's…brother. He knows more about my Dad than anyone, and here he is in front of me. This is real. I have an Uncle. A real, blood-related, wizard Uncle. And he was a Seeker too!' Harry couldn't help but smile. There was still much to digest, but Harry decided this was a good thing. He wondered how Ron and Hermione would react. He wondered what this would mean for holidays and summers. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but what came out was, "How come your hair's not black and messy like my Dad's was, and mine is?"

Brandon was a little surprised at the sudden question but had to chuckle. "For the same reason that your eyes are green, and mine are not. I got my hair color from my mother - your grandmother - though I keep it short so I can manage it. When it's long it's just as messy as yours. Your eyes are green like your mothers, and mine are, well…no one's been able to figure out my eyes, actually. They change color based on my mood."

"Wicked! What color means what?" Harry was intrigued.

"You'll just have to wait and find out." Brandon winked again at his nephew.

They had arrived at the Common Room. Harry said the password ("Ursa Major") and they entered. Ron and Hermione were seated on a couch. Ron had his arm around Hermione, who was snuggled into the redhead. Oddly, the room was otherwise deserted. Harry stifled a snicker, and then cleared his throat loudly. He had never seen his two best friends move so fast. They shot to opposite ends of the couch, trying desperately to look "natural."

"Hey, you two. I want you meet someone," Harry said with a grin as he and Professor Marion walked around the couch to face Ron and Hermione. They were both very red. Harry noted that his uncle was grinning, too.

"This is Professor Marion, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Brandon shook both their hands. "These are my best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. We met our first year."

"Pleasure to meet both of you," the professor said extending his hand. "Hope we weren't interrupting anything," he added with a smile. Both Ron and Hermione blushed even more red.

"And actually," Harry continued, "there's something else you need to know." Harry shot a glance at his uncle, who smiled gently and nodded.

"What's that mate?" Ron's voice was higher than normal again. It tended to get that way when he was embarrassed.

"Well," Harry took a deep breath. "He's not really Professor Marion. He's Brandon Potter. He's my uncle; though he is our DADA professor."

"What in the name of Merlin are you talking about Harry?" Hermione said rather loudly.

"Bloody hell!" Ron agreed.

It took Harry and his uncle several minutes to bring Ron and Hermione up to speed, including letting them know about the need to be careful about who the professor really was. "But Harry that's great! I'm so happy for you!" Hermione had said.

"Yeah, mate, d'you think it would be OK to tell my parents?" Ron asked. Harry really appreciated his friends, who were genuinely as happy as Harry about the situation, if that was possible.

"Maybe we'd best hold off on that for a bit, Ron," the professor interjected. He knew Ron's parents, though they had already graduated from Hogwarts by the time he came to school there. He and his brother James had often spent time with a young Arthur Weasley at his parents' home. Judging by Ron's appearance, Brandon guessed that Arthur had married the girl everyone assumed he would – Molly. Still, though they had been friends, Brandon Marion wasn't quite ready to have to deal with too many people from his forgotten life yet. Ron nodded.

It was getting late, and so Brandon decided to take his leave. "I think it's time I thought about getting myself to bed. You three should do the same. Especially you, young man. You've had an awfully big day." Brandon pointed with mock sternness at Harry, but couldn't maintain it for long, and he let out a loud chuckle.

"I'll see y'all in class tomorrow," Brandon said as he headed for the portrait hole.

Ron, Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance. "Y'all?" Ron said for the three of them.

"Hmm…sorry, another one of those fun little phrases I picked up in the States. It means 'you all' as in the three of you. Technically, I should have said 'all y'all', but I won't bore you with grammatical aberrations of the southeastern United States."

"Er…hang on a sec…" Harry walked through the portrait hole with his uncle; the portrait remained open. Ron and Hermione watched Harry and his uncle talk for a bit, but they were unable to make out what was said. Harry's uncle frowned for a moment, then shrugged and nodded. They talked for a minute more, then the conversation appeared to end as Ron and Hermione saw both Harry and Professor Marion standing awkwardly, fidgeting. Hermione thought they both looked like they wanted to say or do something else, when suddenly, Harry grabbed his uncle and wrapped him in a hug. Hermione and Ron clearly saw the tears well up once more in the professor's eyes as he hugged his nephew, and when Harry returned to the Common Room the tear streaks on his face matched those of his two best friends.

They all smiled happily at each other for a moment, and then Harry said, "I'd better go check on Draco. He's probably having kittens thinking I've forgotten about him again."

Harry pulled out his pocketwatch – the gift from Ron – and flipped the face over. Then he muttered "Draco Malfoy" and the watch immediately returned the phrase 'pacing'.

"Great, he'll be pissed." Harry muttered.

"Wicked! Is that the watch I gave you for your birthday?" Harry nodded to his best friend by way of response, and gave him a big smile.

"What were you asking your uncle about Harry? Merlin, but that sounds a bit strange," Hermione said.

"Yeah, I know. Well, I knew that Draco would want to know what the Headmaster wanted, so I was asking my uncle if it was OK to tell Draco. He was kinda hesitant, but said that he trusted me, and if I felt it was OK, then he was OK with it." Hermione and Ron could both tell that Harry was happier than he had been in a very long time, perhaps even happier than when he found out Sirius Black was his godfather.

"Well, you can't blame him…ow, Hermione!" Ron had started to share his true feelings about Draco until Hermione stepped on his foot rather hard. "I mean, good for you Harry."

Harry was in too good a mood to let his best friend get to him, so he just nodded, told Ron and Hermione goodbye and headed to the dungeons, thinking all the way down about having a family again.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was slightly pissed off. He had spent the last five days searching his extensive and mostly-illegal library for references to 'Dragon's Tear'. Aside from a couple of random references in _the Monster Book of Monsters_ and a couple of novels with rather racy-looking covers that Lucius fervently hoped belonged to Narcissa or Ivy rather than Draco, he had come up with nothing on the subject. He was down to his last section of bookshelves, and he was getting desperate. This section was labeled "History and Legend" and Lucius was not very hopeful. 

Several hours later, Luicus uttered an "Aha!" of triumph. He had found it. Nestled away in a dry old manuscript by some dead scholar of Arthurian legend, _Of Artorius Rex and the Golden Age of Brittania_, was the information he needed. According to legend, the Dragon's Tear was a very large pearl that King Arthur had Merlin cast a spell on to give it magical properties. He had intended to give the pearl as a gift to Guinevere, his wife, but he discovered her affair with Lancelot before he could give her the pearl. He kept the pearl as a symbol of her betrayal, and it became known as the Dragon's Tear, for Arthur was Pendragon, or High King of Britain. It was said that when Arthur was wounded by his son, Mordred, and taken away by Merlin, the Dragon's Tear was hidden away.

Of course, the manuscript did not tell Lucius where to find the Dragon's Tear, but Lucius had many books on Merlin, and he quickly found that Merlin had appeared mysteriously in the Southwestern part of England not long after the supposed destruction of the mythical island of Atlantis. It was supposed that he descended from Atlantean stock; a few survivors of that ancient and advanced civilization fled the destruction of their home and resettled in Cornwall, in the southwestern part of England.

Satisfied, Lucius began to make plans for a trip to Cornwall. The Dark Lord would be pleased.


	10. Another Day in Paradise

**Author's Note: Hello, everyone, thanks for tuning in for the latest installment. Hope you continue to enjoy the reading as much as I do the writing. Special thanks also to everyone who reads and reviews and helps me with ideas for the story – it makes it that much more enjoyable.**

**The Disclaimer: Don't own them, this is for fun only, it's rated 'K+'. No characters were harmed but Harry almost bit the big one because he tried to hold a meaningful conversation with Draco one morning before Draco had his morning coffee. **

**Chapter 10 – Another Day in Paradise**

Draco Malfoy was pacing in his room. Patience did not come naturally to the tow-headed boy, and Harry Potter was making him wait. It was most frustrating. Draco had gone immediately to his room after leaving the library; he didn't even pause in the Slytherin Common Room to speak to anyone, not that they would have spoken to Draco anyway. All of Draco's supposed friends and housemates appeared to have turned on him, no doubt because of a few strategically-placed threats from Lucius Malfoy. Draco had long since finished dictating his History of Magic essay. He had to grudgingly admit that the Golden Trio, especially Hermione Granger, were as intelligent as they were annoying, and so his essay had been a fairly straightforward prospect.

Shortly after finishing his essay, Draco's sister Ivy had come to visit. They had not had a chance to talk since the events of that morning in the Great Hall, and Draco was not surprised to see his little sister enter. He imagined she had quite a few questions she wanted to have answered. Draco had sent her a very clear signal this morning, but she had been perplexed, and understandably so.

"How's your arm, big brother?" Ivy asked as she came over and sat down on the bed. Draco was still pacing.

"Fine, fine," Draco waved dismissingly with his good arm at his sister. "Where in the blue blazes is Harry!" Draco was frustrated to the point of whining.

Ivy pretended to be hurt. "Oh, he's Harry now is he? I see how it is. You can't even spare time to talk to your sister, because you're waiting on the bloody Boy-Who-Lived."

Draco shot her a glare. Ivy had never been very good at pretending. "Oh, come off it, sister dear. You were never any good at that sort of thing." He sighed, then went over and sat next to Ivy on the bed.

"My collarbone is still broken, as you've no doubt noticed. I had a note from Madam Pomfrey that the healers from St. Mungo's would be glad to heal it if I could make an appearance at the hospital. Neither Professor Dumbledore nor Professor Snape think that's a wise idea with Father out looking for me, so I have to let it heal naturally. I'll have the sling and cast another four weeks, unfortunately."

Ivy rested her head on her brother's good shoulder. "I'm sorry Draco. Does it hurt?"

"Not really, but it's pretty damn annoying because I can't hardly do anything without help, especially changing clothes, or writing, or anything like that," grumbled Draco.

"And why are you waiting on Harry Potter? Why are you calling him Harry now anyway? Is he your new best friend?" Draco rolled his eyes at his sister.

"No, Harry Potter is not my new best friend. We have an…understanding. Plus, he's been assigned to help me, along with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, since I've broken my collarbone." Draco did not feel particularly inclined to tell his sister about his episode that morning in Care of Magical Creatures, nor his new friendship with Harry Potter. He would tell her eventually, just not yet. "Ivy, we probably should talk about this morning."

"I was wondering when you would get around to that. What exactly is going on? I mean, when I walked into the Great Hall, you were sitting all by yourself, and that never happens, plus you waved me off when I started to head your way. I was glad I remembered our little code language." Ivy lifted her head to turn and look at Draco.

"You did a good job there, little sister. I knew you would be a bit confused. It would appear that the rest of our fellow housemates have been told about my disagreement with dear old Dad," said Draco bitterly. "I believe he's told them not to associate with me in no uncertain terms. That's why I was sitting by myself. When you came up to breakfast and headed my way, it occurred to me that people would think you and I were in disagreement also, and I felt it would be better to keep up the illusion for the time being."

"I did find out some interesting things, so maybe it was a good idea," Ivy replied.

Draco looked at his sister, proud once more. "And what information do you have, my dear Slytherin sister?"

"Well, Pansy Parkinson told me that Father had told all the Slytherins that you were a blood traitor, and had been friends with Harry Potter and his two sidekicks for a long time, and were just waiting to make it public. She couldn't tell us, though, how you managed to get away from the manor."

Draco smiled. "That's good, because it means that the students don't know about Professor Snape. Since he came to rescue me, I'm sure that You-Know-Who and the rest of the Death Eaters know he's a traitor as well. I can't imagine he'll be attending any more secret meetings, or responding to any Dark Mark summons."

"What do you think the students will do if they find out?" Ivy asked.

"Well, it'll be hell, that's for sure. He'll lose control of his house. I just can't figure out why Father didn't spill that piece of information as well."

"Maybe…maybe You-Know-Who has something else in mind for Professor Snape?" Ivy looked a bit scared at that possibility.

"You may be right. That's not good," Draco agreed.

"So, you and Harry Potter are friends now?" Ivy asked innocently. She was not going to let that subject pass. Draco was caught unaware by the sudden shift in topics. He wasn't quite sure how to respond, but he was quite annoyed at his sister's choice of tactics; she had learned them from Draco after all.

"Er…well, I wouldn't say that we're friends. I told you before. We have an understanding."

"Well, I think he's a goody-two-shoes Gryffindor that gets way too much attention just because he _famous_. He always breaks the rules but never gets into trouble!" Ivy was quoting chapter and verse from "The Gospel According to Draco Malfoy".

Draco never thought he would find himself defending Harry Potter. "I know, Ivy, but in his defense, now that we've…er…interacted some, I honestly don't think he wants the attention. Yes, he's a Gryffindor, yes he's completely oblivious most of the time, and yes he breaks a lot of rules and never gets in trouble, but he never asked to be a celebrity. He has You-Know-Who to thank for that."

Ivy crossed her arms and harrumphed, a most Draco-like thing to do. "Well, I hope you don't expect me to become best friends with him, Draco Malfoy, because it's not going to happen." Draco rolled his eyes and was getting ready to respond when the boy in question burst into the room quite suddenly. Once again, Harry's timing was impeccable.

"Sorry I'm so late Draco. You're not going to believe what Dumbledore wanted."

"Bloody hell, Potter! Don't you ever knock?" Draco winced at the tone of his own voice, but the Gryffindor had caught him by surprise.

"Er…sorry…oh, I stopped by the kitchens on the way here. I thought you might like some chocolate, so the house-elves gave me some truffles they'd just whipped up." Harry produced a plate of truffles and set them on the nightstand. That was when he realized Draco wasn't alone. He immediately flushed bright red. "Sorry, didn't realize you had company."

"He sure does apologize a lot, Drakey," Ivy simpered.

At hearing his nickname come out of his sister's mouth, Draco immediately turned bright red, glared at his sister, and growled, all at the same time. It was a most impressive feat. Harry just stood there, nonplussed momentarily.

"Drakey?" The Gryffindor boy was stifling a laugh.

"Shut it, Potter. Don't you even start or Madam Pomfrey will be removing these truffles from every single body orifice you possess." Ivy giggled. "And you too, sister dear. I will deal with you later. I suppose I should introduce you two. Ivy, this is Harry Potter. Harry, this is my younger evil sister, Ivy. I hope you enjoy her presence, because she may not be around much longer," Draco said menacingly.

"Nice to meet you Ivy," Harry smiled genuinely. Ivy wasn't sure how to react. Her brother's nickname had really just slipped out, and she knew she was in trouble. As far as Harry Potter went, she hadn't really expected him to be quite so nice. Draco was right, he was annoying and oblivious, but something in Ivy found the Gryffindor boy slightly adorable.

"Nice to meet you, Harry. Well, my dear brother, since your servant has arrived, I suppose you'd like to get ready for bed, and I must do the same. Talk to you later." Ivy smiled briefly at Harry and headed for the door, sneaking a truffle on the way out.

Draco watched his sister leave, and Harry was surprised to note that Draco smiled at the retreating form of his sister with an expression of warm fondness. Harry wouldn't have thought it possible of the Slytherin boy, but then many things Harry thought Draco uncapable of had been proven false in the last few weeks. His sister having shut the door, Draco turned his attention to the tardy Gryffindor, fixing him with the patented Malfoy look, one eyebrow raised. Harry started to fidget slightly. "Truffle?" Harry nervously picked the tray up off the nightstand and walked it over to Draco, who took one suspiciously but popped it unceremoniously into his mouth. Even Draco would admit he had a weakness for chocolate.

"Mmmm…excellent!" A smile spread across Draco's face. "I suppose that will make up for you being late. For the record, though, I prefer dark chocolate to milk chocolate."

"Why does that not surprise me," muttered Harry to himself.

"What did you say?" Draco asked sharply, eyeing Harry as he helped himself to another truffle.

"Er, nothing. I remembered that you like chocolate, and I had to go by the kitchens anyway, so, well, there you go."

Draco was touched once again at his new friend's thoughtfulness. Now that they were not trying to kill each other, Draco found it very hard to stay angry at Harry for long, oddly enough. He wondered why that was the case. Shrugging mentally, he took yet another truffle. "So what happened in the meeting with Dumbledore?"

Harry looked uncomfortably at Draco. Now that he was here with the boy who had been his enemy for the last three years, he was strangely reticent about telling Draco the truth about his uncle. How much could he really trust Draco? What if the Slytherin's sudden change of heart really was just a plot to kill Harry? He remembered how his uncle had been reluctant to let Harry tell Draco when he found out the blond boy was a Malfoy. "Lucius was quite the shady character in school, and I'm very suspicious to hear his son is not of the same mold." Harry had explained everything that had happened over the summer, and only then had his uncle relented.

Draco sensed Harry's hesitation and prompted, "Something wrong, Harry?"

Harry shook himself out of his musings, looked long and hard at Draco and thought, 'What the hell. I have to start trusting him sometime.' Out loud he said, "Well, you know the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor? Professor Marion?"

"Yes. Isn't he some barmy American? Awfully young too. I wonder if Dumbledore's losing his touch."

Harry got a little worked up at that, but decided to forge on ahead. "Whatever, Draco. Anyway, he's not actually an American. He's British, and he's actually my uncle. He's my Dad's brother." Harry watched Draco carefully to see how he would react.

Draco, in spite of his normal cool, was rather shocked. Harry had an uncle? Lucius had never mentioned anything like that to Draco. He wondered if his father even knew.

"Bloody hell! How did that happen?" It was not the most eloquent response Draco had ever uttered.

Harry couldn't resist the opening. "Well, you see Draco, when a boy and a girl like each other…"

"Oh, shut it. You know what I meant," Draco interrupted irritably. "Bloody Gryffindors."

Harry chuckled, but explained the episode in the Headmaster's office to Draco. After a few questions, Draco was satisfied, and promised not to reveal the professor's identity. He even went so far as tell Harry he was happy for him, a statement that made the raven-haired boy smile. "Thanks, Draco."

Harry helped Draco get ready for bed once again. Thankfully, both boys thought, Draco had figured out a system for showering without assistance, and the two boys chatted about things inconsequential while Draco showered; Harry leaning against the wall of the bathroom, arms crossed in a relaxed manner.

"Alright," said Harry a few minutes later as Draco got into bed. "I'll be down in the morning to help you get dressed."

"Fine. Please don't be late," whined Draco unintentionally.

Harry rolled his eyes then grinned evilly at Draco before saying, "OK, Drakey, whatever you say." Harry then made a mad dash for the door, laughing. He made it unscathed, but as he walked down the hall smiling he could hear Draco yelling, "Just you wait, Potter! So help me, I'm going to kick your arse so hard you'll have to open your mouth just to use the bloody toilet!"

Harry was still laughing some minutes later when he climbed into his bed in Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

Harry was true to his word, and arrived in the Slytherin dorms in plenty of time the next morning. Neither Harry nor Draco were morning people, so they didn't have much to say to each other. In fact, Draco had been a little testy when Harry appeared without coffee. Harry figured between the coffee the morning before and the truffles from last night, he was spoiling Draco, and that was not a good precedent. The net effect was that two very grumpy and not-totally-awake boys, one light-haired the other dark-haired, ascended the stairs from the Slytherin dungeons and entered the Great Hall for breakfast. 

Though it was only the second day of classes, this was not the first time that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter had been seen together without trying to kill each other, and many of the students at the school were beginning to wonder exactly what was going on. Of course, the Slytherins all knew from Lucius Malfoy what the situation was, or they thought they did, but the Slytherins were also loath to share that information with anyone. This meant that many of the Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and even Gryffindor students were very perplexed as to why Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter appeared to be friends.

Harry and Draco both noted the glances and whispers as they made their way across the Great Hall. Draco frowned, thinking that the majority of the students were probably not buying the half-truth that he and the Golden Trio were spending so much time together simply because of Draco's collarbone. Setting that thought aside for the moment, he nodded to Harry, who returned the gesture, and the two boys separated to go to their respective tables for breakfast. Harry joined Ron and Hermione, and Draco sat down with a sigh, by himself once again.

Breakfast was quiet and uneventful. Harry was actually a little irritated at Ron who had completely stopped making an effort to assist Malfoy. That left Harry to get him ready for school in the morning and for bed at night, and for Hermione to take notes in class for him. That wasn't really an imposition for her, as she practically took notes for Harry and Ron already. Harry just wished Ron would try a little harder to be nice to Draco. Granted, he had a lot more to get over than Harry or Hermione did, and Ron wasn't exactly known for his forgiving disposition.

The first class of the day was Potions, and while the Golden Trio were dreading 2 hours with Professor Snape, Draco Malfoy was looking forward to it. Draco had always been good at Potions, and he was Professor Snape's favorite student. This, and the fact that Draco was in Snape's house at Hogwarts was the reason the Potions professor had been sent to rescue Draco from Malfoy Manor, even though it forced him to expose his position as a spy for Dumbledore.

The Gryffindor students shuffled into the dungeon where Snape held court and chose three seats at the back, amongst the other Gryffindor students. In this class, the Slytherin students generally occupied the front seats. Not long after Harry, Ron, and Hermione got situated, Draco came in alone and sat in the front row of desks. None of the other Slytherins acknowledged his presence or sat down to help him get ready for the lesson.

A moment later, Snape himself entered the room in his usual fashion, walking purposefully to the front, robes billowing out behind him. "How in the bloody hell does he do that?" Ron whispered to Harry, who just shrugged. It did seem awfully melodramatic. Harry also wondered if Snape's attitude toward him would change given what had happened over the summer. Harry figured the chance of that happening was slightly less than that of the Chudley Cannons winning the league this year.

Snape took a good look around the classroom, noted Draco sitting by himself, and said, "Weasley, move up here and help Mr. Malfoy with his potions work. In fact, you will be his partner in this class until further notice." Ron and Draco both looked as if they'd just eaten several large slugs. "Move! Now, Weasley, or I start deducting house points." Ron jumped, picked up his things and settled himself in the chair next to Draco. They traded an uneasy look as Snape began the lesson.

It was a very long two hours. Snape had required them to brew a Citronellus potion, which was designed to ward off the mosquitos that had been plaguing the school this year with the still warm and very muggy weather. The potion required a multitude of ingredients, and lots of attention to detail to brew properly. Needless to say, Snape had been on cloud nine, pointing out shoddy work, and deducting points like there was no tomorrow. Hermione mentioned to Harry that Snape seemed to be taking as many points from Slytherin students as he did from Gryffindor students, and Harry surmised this was an attempt to keep control of his own house.

Draco and Ron had been having quite a rough time of it. It had to have been supremely frustrating for Draco not to be able to tend his own potion, and Ron, Harry had to admit, did not take instructions well, especially from Draco Malfoy. Ron had gone quite red in the face, Draco had been spitting terse directions at Ron, and they were both a hair's breadth from exploding, but they managed to get the potion done just the same. Snape had been spending so much time on other students, he hadn't managed to get Harry worked up enough for the raven-haired boy to mess up his and Hermione's potion, so they finished theirs in good order as well.

Everyone was pretty much relieved when the class was over and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco all walked to Defense Against the Dark Arts together, talking about the new professor.

"You have to admit, Harry. It's going to be rather odd having your uncle for a professor," said Ron conversationally.

Harry snorted. "Forget having him for a professor, it's going to be rather odd having an uncle period, at least one that doesn't try to lock me in the cupboard under the stairs."

The other three students laughed, though Draco looked confused, and he asked, "What do you mean, an uncle who doesn't try to lock you under the stairs?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all traded a glance, and Harry, who was distinctly uncomfortable said, "Blimey! I've left my DADA textbook in the dormitory. I'd better run up and get it." With that, he ran off in the opposite direction, leaving Draco looking even more confused, Ron uncertain, and Hermione concerned.

It was Hermione that spoke first. "Er….Draco, how much do you know about Harry's life before he came to Hogwarts?"

"Well, I obviously know about his parents, and You-Know-Who and all that and that he was sent to live with his muggle relatives until he came to Hogwarts." Draco still had a confused look on his face.

"Ah, I'm not sure if I should be the one to tell you this, but the muggles that Harry lived with forced him to live in a cupboard underneath the staircase in their house. He never had any of his own things, only those of his cousin. That's why his clothes never fit. And did you notice how he's always looked underfed? That's because he is. His aunt and uncle just barely gave him enough food to keep him something resembling healthy, and made him do all their housework, and stuff."

Draco was stunned.

"Harry would never tell you himself, because he doesn't want anyone to feel sorry for him, and because he doesn't want the attention, but that's what he meant when he said 'an uncle who doesn't try to lock him under the stairs.'"

"Oh. I had no idea," was all Draco could think of by way of response.

"Exactly," said Hermione. "Not many people do, and I think Harry prefers it that way."

By this time they had all arrived at the classroom, and they found their seats. Everyone was curious to see the classroom already occupied by an orange tabby cat that was languishing on the teacher's desk, supremely uninterested in anything else that appeared to be going on. Harry entered a moment later, conspicuously carrying his Defense Against the Dark Arts book. He sat down at the empty desk next to Draco without a word. Draco leaned over and opened his mouth to apologize to Harry, but the Gryffindor boy stopped him, "Don't worry about it, Draco, you didn't know, and I don't like to talk about it."

Draco wasn't going to let it slide. "Fine, but I'm sorry all the same. I just want you to know that I had no idea, and well, at one point in my life, knowing how you were treated would probably have made my year, but…um, now it just makes me angry."

Harry was genuinely touched, but as was always the case in situations like this he didn't really know how to respond, so he just nodded. A minute or so later, Professor Marion entered the classroom carrying a stack of papers. All of the students – Gryffindors and Slytherins again – looked on with interest. The professor was wearing the typical black wizarding robe, but it was open at the front, and underneath he had on what was clearly a muggle shirt in deep blue, checked tie and black slacks. All in all, it was a rather unconventional dress for a wizard professor.

"Good morning, everyone."

"Good morning, Professor Marion," the students all responded in unison. Harry had to catch himself from calling his uncle by a more familiar name than 'professor'. Harry's uncle must have heard, because he winked at Harry almost imperceptibly.

"This is Defense Against the Dark Arts, and you should all be fourth year students. My name is Professor Marion. First things first, let me call roll, and then I'll pass out the course syllabus." The students in the class all looked at each other. The professor noted the confusion and said, "I'm guessing you're not quite sure what a syllabus is. Basically, it's a document that lists information about the course, what we'll cover each class session, and when assignments are due." He smiled.

The students had never had a teacher actually provide them with such advance warning as far as what would be expected of them, and so this was a welcome development. They began to murmur to each other, favorably impressed.

Now, quiet down, and I'll take attendance." Professor Marion began to call out names, and checked them against his list. After he had finished that task, he began to review the syllabus.

"By the way," the professor said after he finished going over the syllabus, "I'll not be taking attendance again. If you're not here, that's your problem. I think you'll find that class attendance and exam grades tend to be very closely related, but if you're convinced you have more important places to be than my classroom, that's your business. You should note, however, that unless you are on your deathbed, if you choose not to attend class on the day of an exam or quiz, or when some other assignment is due, you will not be allowed to make it up."

Once again, the students were somewhat taken aback by this rather laissez-faire approach to teaching. The unspoken agreement was that schools must be very different in America.

"Now that all the drudgery is out of the way, I'd like to spend the rest of our time today getting to know you, and give you the chance to get to know me a bit. Let's go around the room and introduce ourselves." Each of the students did so. They all knew each other rather well having been in many of the same classes for the last three years, but it was a pleasant change from being lectured to straight off the bat. Harry kept a close eye on his uncle, and he noted that when certain students introduced themselves, his uncle seemed to get a far away look in his eyes. Harry assumed he was remembering something else from his life that had been forgotten.

There were now only about ten minutes left in the class, and so Professor Marion seated himself on a stool in front of his desk and said, "Well done everyone. Now, who would like to ask me about myself? You may ask any question you wish."

The students all looked at each other. They weren't sure how to respond to a professor who seemed quite willing to talk about himself. Seamus Finnegan raised his hand tentatively after a moment.

Professor Marion smiled, "Yes, Seamus?" The students also weren't used to having a professor address them by their first name.

"Where are you from, sir? And, well, I don't know how else to say it, but how did you end up here?"

Professor Marion chuckled, but Harry thought he saw his uncle's smile waver slightly. "Well said, Seamus…don't ever worry about offending me. I'm sure most of you have heard I'm an American, and that's mostly true. I was born here in England but have been living in the United States for the last fifteen years or so. For those of you that are trying to do the math, that makes me not quite 29 years old. I worked as an Auror for the American government when Professor Dumbledore contacted me and asked me if I'd like to try my hand at teaching, so here I am."

Lavender Brown raised her hand next. "Is it very different in the United States than it is here?"

"Most definitely. I'm not exactly sure how to describe it. Maybe it would be best to say that most Americans are a lot less uptight than the British, but at the same time, can be amazingly geocentric."

"Geo what?" Ron asked, frowning.

"Geocentric. It means that a lot of Americans are convinced that America is the best place in the world, and that everyone else that does anything different has it all wrong. Let me give an example of this. When I was in college, I had a roommate from Texas. His first time out of the county he grew up in was when he came to Kentucky to go to school. When I asked him why that was, he looked at me and told me that he had never really seen the need to leave Texas because it's the best place there was."

The students were nonplussed at that pronouncement.

"And in case you're wondering, yes he did wear a cowboy hat and boots, but he did not ride a horse to class. He had a mule." The students all laughed, though it was really a poor joke.

"I think we have time for one other question. Yes, Parvati?"

"Is that your cat? What's his name?"

Professor Marion turned around to look at the cat on the desk, who was still studiously ignoring the goings-on of the classroom. "Yes, this is my cat. His name is Dexter, and he will be supremely uninterested in you or I or anyone else until the most inconvenient time possible. Then he will demand your attention. I've learned to just let him roam around. He's really quite friendly, although, he did come into the apartment in rather a bad mood the other night. It seems some other cat in the castle had given him a sound walloping. Shortly thereafter I ran across a ginger bandy-legged cat outside the door of my apartment. I figure it was the one."

Hermione looked embarrassed. Ron mouthed, "You see. He's a menace," at her.

"OK, class, we're just about out of time. Next class we'll have a dueling tournament, so brush up on your wand skills." The class murmured in excitement at this. "Also, my apartment is located just outside Gryffindor tower, and my door is always open for you to drop by and visit, to ask about classes, or if you just need someone to talk to. Class dismissed!"

The students made their way out of the classroom, chatting about their new teacher, with whom they were quite pleased. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco made their way up to Professor Marion, who had gathered up his things, and was petting Dexter the cat idly.

"Well, how did I do for my second day on the job?" the professor asked in a jovial tone.

"That was really different." Ron said. Everyone else agreed.

"Is that how they teach at schools in America?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, most of my schooling was a lot like that. It's a lot less structured and strict than what I remembered from my days at Hogwarts. Much more pleasant, too. I'm sure I could provide you with enough information to write a compare-and-contrast essay for your Muggle Studies class if you'd like Hermione."

Hermione blushed, knowing she had been caught. Professor Marion noticed Draco standing behind the other three students just a bit. "You must be Draco Malfoy. Pleased to meet you." The professor extended his hand to Draco, who after a moment's hesitation, extended his own to shake. The professor had a surprisingly strong grip.

"Yes, sir. Please to meet you as well," replied Draco nervously.

"I knew your father, and I'm sure Harry has told you about me. You have made a difficult decision, but one that you can be proud of. Let me reiterate what I said in class. My door is always open if you need anything. Harry has spoken very highly of you."

"Thank you, sir." Draco nodded, not really sure what to say to this unexpected exchange of words.

"Now, you four had better be off to lunch. Harry, why don't we do a little flying this weekend? Maybe we can put together a pickup game of Quidditch?"

"That'd be great uncle!" Harry was excited.

"All right then, spread the word, and we'll make definite plans next class." The professor shooed the four students out of the classroom, and returned to his apartment to drop off his things, then went down to lunch himself.

The conversation at lunch centered mostly around the new DADA teacher. Draco ended up sitting by himself again, but he didn't really mind, as he was thinking about the new teacher as well. It was hard to believe that he was really Harry's uncle, and even more surprising was the fact that Draco was genuinely happy for Harry to have some real family. The professor's words to Draco had been unexpected, and made Draco uncomfortable, but at the same time he appreciated it. Somehow, he knew the professor was very genuine and meant every word. 'Must run in the family,' Draco thought as he attacked an egg sandwich and a goblet of pumpkin juice.

Divination was a nightmare, no pun intended. Harry always felt like he was getting high off the fumes in the classroom, and it was always very warm in there; the whole thing just made him uncomfortable. Professor Trelawney had predicted Harry's death before Halloween, and Ron had fallen asleep inside of ten minutes. This meant that Harry had to work with Draco on reading tea leaves – they were doing a review – and Draco was actually trying to be serious about it, which frustrated Harry no end. Professor Trelawney ended up assigning them an essay on tea leaves due next class, which made everyone groan, even Draco.

The rest of the afternoon and evening were free, so everyone just relaxed until dinner, and then started on what homework they did have. Harry, Ron, and Draco were working on their Divination essays in the library. Technically, Ron and Harry were doing all the writing, while Draco was dictating. Ron seemed to be OK with this as Draco knew quite a bit about Divination. It turned out that Seeing was a fairly common gift in his family, and Draco was quite accomplished at it also.

They finished the essay before it got too late, then Harry helped Draco down to his room to go through the nightly ritual of getting ready for bed before going to bed himself. Before he fell asleep, Harry's last thought was, 'Just a typical day at Hogwarts. What a boring and pleasant change that was.' He then drifted into a peaceful, dreamless slumber.


	11. Of Duels and Other Diversions

Author's Note: Hello Everyone, here's the next installment. With the upcoming holidays I'm not sure I'll get a chapter posted next week as I'll be on vacation, but I promise to be back on track after that and will try to post two chapters.

Disclaimer: Not my characters, just my story. This is 'K+'. No firebolts were destroyed by whomping willows in creation of this work. Draco takes a beating again; maybe eventually I'll think up something more original, but you have to admit it's kinda fun that way. On with the show.

**Chapter 11 – Of Duels and Other Diversions**

The next few days saw the Golden Trio, Draco, and Ivy settle into something resembling a regular routine. Harry would get up early and stop by the kitchens to get coffee to take down to the dungeons with him. He knew he was spoiling Draco something awful, but the blond-haired boy was so whiny and obnoxious if he didn't have coffee in the morning that Harry decided it was worth the risk. It never occurred to Harry that Draco was doing it on purpose so that Harry would bring him coffee. Draco had rationalized it to himself by saying to himself that even though they were friends, all was fair where coffee was involved, and it wasn't really his fault that Harry was so gullible and trusting.

Harry would help Draco get ready for school and they would go up to breakfast together, where Harry would join Ron and Hermione and Draco would eat alone. After classes were over for the day, they would spend a few hours in the library doing homework, after which Draco would dictate everything to his quill back in his room before Harry returned to get Draco ready for bed. Usually Ivy would sneak in during this time and she and Draco would talk for a while until Harry showed up. Ivy never stayed long once Harry was around; Harry always seemed to get embarrassed or tongue-tied when Draco's sister was there, so it was a good thing, from Harry's perspective.

Their next Defense Against the Dark Arts class had been pretty exciting because they had the Dueling tournament. The students had been looking forward to it, and had quite naturally assumed that the duels would be between Gryffindor and Slytherin students for house points. They were wrong.

"Before we get started with the dueling, class, I want to lay a few ground rules," Professor Marion had said by way of introduction once the class had settled down enough for him to be heard. Unlike their other professors, Professor Marion seemed content to let the students chat until the conversations naturally died down. Dexter lay in his usual spot on the desk, uninterested in everything. "First, there will be no Unforgivable Curses." The class looked shocked. "Oh, give me a break. You can't tell me you people don't know them, I know better than that. Just don't use them, or you'll have me, the Headmaster, and the Ministry of Magic to deal with. Second, you will not cast spells that intentionally harm your opponent. I know it's not reasonable to expect that you only cast spells to disarm your opponent; just don't do anything damaging. If you do, I'll deduct an ungodly amount of house points, give you detention for a week, and subject you to the same spell you just cast." The class murmured. It appeared that Professor Marion was very much a pragmatist, but would not be tolerant of intentional rule-breaking.

"Finally, we're going to be doing this little duel a little differently than you're used to. We will not be competing in houses, rather we'll be using something called 'single elimination'. What this means is that if you win your first duel, you keep going, if you lose, you're out. The idea is for you to brush up on your dueling skills, and not have too easy or too hard a duel, so I've taken the liberty of reviewing each of your records for this class from years past, and we'll start with an initial pair of students of similar ability. The winner of that duel will duel again. Then the dueling will proceed one duel at a time until we have an overall winner. The winner will then get a…well, a special treat, let's say."

Upon hearing this explanation, Harry and Ron traded glances. Fred and George had been running a pool on who the winner of the dueling tournament would be. Ron had put 15 Galleons – his entire life savings – on Harry, while the Slytherins had been betting heavily on Draco in spite of their newfound hate for him. Apparently that particular emotion did not extend to profit potential. Oddly enough, Fred and George had declined to place any money of their own in this particular pool, preferring only to take profits on the exchange of funds. Neither Harry nor Ron had been able to figure that one out.

Professor Marion was making his way around the room, lining up students. Crabbe and Goyle were paired together for the first duel. "That's a shocker…they're the dullest of the bunch," Ron whispered to Harry, and it wasn't long before Goyle had defeated Crabbe soundly with a lucky _Expelliarmus_.

"Well done, Gregory. Pansy, you're up next."

Not surprisingly, Pansy Parkinson walloped Goyle, and she was paired against Dean Thomas. As this was the first inter-house duel, things got a bit more heated. Harry was half-afraid that Pansy would try something illegal or try to hurt Dean, but Harry's uncle gave her a look that could have shattered stone. Several duels later Hermione, who had defeated Pansy and had quite a run defeating the majority of Slytherin house and a good portion of her Gryffindor classmates was paired against Ron. Neither Harry nor Draco had dueled yet; they were the only students left.

Ron and Hermione faced off. Neither of them was particularly thrilled about having to hex each other. Ron, looking very pale, let fly with a rather weak _Expelliarmus_, which barely missed Hermione, who retaliated with a _Rictusempra_. This too missed, and Ron was ready with another _Expelliarmus._ Harry figured Ron really didn't want to hit Hermione with anything that might make her like him less. This spell was true, and Hermione found herself wandless.

"Nice work, Ronald. Harry, you're up." Harry looked at his uncle in surprise. He, and everyone else in the class, had assumed that he was probably the most powerful wizard, and would be dueling last. It appeared that privilege was reserved for Draco Malfoy, who looked somewhat surprised himself.

Though Ron and Harry were best friends, they were also very competitive, though they had never dueled. The two friends faced each other with no small measure of unease. After Professor Marion had counted down, Ron and Harry stared at each other for a moment before Harry grinned evilly, winked at Ron and let fly with a powerful _Tarantallegra_ charm. It caught Ron square on the chest, causing him to drop his wand before the charm even had the chance to take effect. Professor Marion stepped back in with a "_Finite Incantatem" _and Ron quickly went back to normal. Harry went over and shook his hand. "Sorry, Ron. Figured I'd better make the first move."

At first, Harry thought Ron would be angry, but he grasped his best friend's hand and shrugged, "It's OK, Harry. You just caught me completely off-guard. I'll be better prepared next time, mate."

Ron sat down, and Harry turned back to Professor Marion, who smiled at his nephew. "Mr. Malfoy, I believe you're just about the only one left. Harry, Draco, take your positions. Oops, hang on, just a moment, Mr. Malfoy, I forgot about your collarbone."

Harry and Draco, who was just rising from his seat, both looked at the professor. Harry was wondering how his uncle was going to compensate for Draco's arm and collarbone. Draco was as well, but he had a slightly annoyed look on his face as if it was a great inconvenience to be dueling at all.

"Now, Draco, your right arm – the one in the sling – is your wand arm, is it not?"

"Yes, sir." Draco said in a slightly irritated voice.

Professor Marion winked at Draco, and then turned to Harry, "Then it seems that it's only fair to make your opponent operate under a similar handicap." From somewhere in his robes the professor produced a sling. Harry didn't know what else to do, so he just stood there, mouth opening and closing soundlessly while his uncle put the sling on him. "Now, Harry, stop looking like a fish out of water," the professor said cheerily. Harry glanced over at Draco, who was trying his best not to laugh out loud, and more or less failing.

"Shut it, Malfoy," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"Oh please, Potter. You couldn't duel your way out of a paper bag if you had _three_ arms _and_ a pair of scissors to go with your wand. This will be a piece of cake."

The level of excitement in the room had been growing more palatable with each succeeding duel; with Harry and Draco facing off under these unusual circumstances, the atmosphere in the room fairly crackled from the tension. Each student remembered what had happened the last time Harry and Draco had dueled two years before, and as both boys' powers had clearly developed significantly since that time, everyone was wondering what would happen; more than a few students were a little fearful.

Draco had been walking to the front of the class during this exchange to face Harry. As Professor Marion counted down, Draco assumed his trademark smirk, but was surprised to see Harry with a similar expression on his face. It was most unnerving. Of course, Draco planned to throw his first hex at the count of two, and he did so. Harry was ready, having started his own incantation of _"Protego" _on the count of two as well. Draco's spell, a bolt of blue light, bounced harmlessly off Harry and dissipated. There was a murmur in the crowd of students. Most of them assumed that since Draco had lost the advantage, Harry would make mincemeat out of him. He was the Boy-Who-Lived after all. Harry fired back at Draco with _Rictusempra_ before, he hoped, the Slytherin had time to regroup, but Draco was very good, and dodged the hex, then returned his own. The two erstwhile enemies continued in this fashion for several tense minutes with somewhat awkward movements as they were hampered by their slings until Draco, getting a little impatient, threw a hex with as much force as he could muster. He actually thrust his arm so hard at Harry he lost his balance, still being somewhat off-kilter from dodging Harry's last curse and needing to be a bit careful of his collarbone. This opening was all Harry needed, and a quick shot of the old standby _Expelliarmus_ found Draco without a wand.

All of the Gryffindor students cheered, and even the Slytherins looked appropriately downcast. Draco Malfoy might not be the Prince of Slytherin anymore but he was still in their house after all. Draco looked quite angry at having lost the duel, but to everyone's surprise, he walked slowly over to Harry, shook his hand, and said, "Well done," though his smile was strained as if he were in pain. Harry wondered if Draco had pushed himself a little harder than he should have during the duel. Ron looked as if he were about to faint, as did most of the other Gryffindors. The Slytherins' pretended to ignore what had just happened; they looked either uncomfortable or royally peeved. Draco walked slowly back to his seat, holding his bad arm with his good one. Once he sat down Hermione leaned over him with a concerned look, but Draco waved her off, saying he was fine, just a bit sore from putting the odd strain on his collarbone and shoulder.

The students now assumed that the dueling tournament was over, and that Harry had won. Accordingly, the jingling of money changing hands began to occur surreptitiously toward the back of the class. "Students who have made wagers on the outcome of this tournament, if I may be so presumptuous as to assume that any students would dare break the school rule about gambling," Professor Marion said dryly, "may wish to wait until the dueling tournament is truly over to collect or pay their bets."

Everyone in the classroom turned and looked at the professor, clearly perplexed. Harry spoke for everyone, "But, professor, you said yourself that Draco and I were the only two left."

"Ah, I believe you're mistaken there, Harry." Professor Marion looked at his nephew. "What I said was that Draco was just about the only one left. I, also, am in this class, though not as a student, and in order to have truly won this little tournament you also have to defeat me." Professor Marion smiled broadly.

Harry gulped, "Er…are you sure about that, professor?" Harry couldn't resist a little bit of a jab at his uncle. "Do you think you can still, ah, get around well enough to duel someone half your age? Sir? Maybe you had better leave my good arm in a sling just in case?"

The majority of the students gasped. It was unthinkable to talk to a teacher that way. Only Ron, Hermione and Draco knew the true nature of Harry and Professor Marion's relationship, and they each had to stifle a laugh.

"I think, Mr. Potter, that I can manage, even if your right arm is not in a sling." Professor Marion did his best Snape imitation. "You will take your place, _now_, Mr. Potter.I was thinking that perhaps I would be kind to you in this duel, but now, I think not." The professor's voice was as cold as iron. Harry gulped again, but took up the ready position opposite the professor. "Draco, please count to three for us, and Harry, three means three, not two-and-a-half."

Draco counted down, and the duel started normally with both Harry and Professor Marion doing a good job of throwing spells and countering or dodging them. This continued for a couple of minutes, when gradually the students watching the duel with fascination began to notice a change. "They're getting faster," Hermione whispered to Ron, and other students were noticing it as well. Harry and his uncle had begun by throwing spells at what could be called a normal speed, but as the duel progressed the speed at which they alternated spells increased. Harry and the professor began to move around the room as they dodged back and forth avoiding and casting spells with even greater frequency, ever faster, until it seemed that their wand arms were a blur, and rather than distinct spells, the students could only see flashes of color shooting between the two duelers. That was when they realized that neither Harry nor the Professor was speaking. They were casting spells without using their voices! The students continued to watch, riveted, as the duelers danced their eerie silent dance, hexes flashing back and forth in reds, blues, and oranges, wand arms moving almost frantically as if conducting a symphony of spells. After nearly 10 more minutes of this, Harry was caught off-balance and slightly out of rhythm, just as Draco had been, and the next spell cast by the professor caused Harry's wand to fly out of his hand into his uncle's. Harry and Professor Marion were both breathing hard from the exertion as they came to a sudden halt.

"Very well done, Harry!" Professor Marion said between deep gulps of air, "Twenty points to Gryffindor! Each of the rest of you take five points apiece for each time you dueled as well." The students had been entranced with the duel, and what they had seen, but at this news, everyone broke out in cheers as the bell rang for the class to end. Everyone shuffled out happily to lunch, talking about the amazing display of magic they had seen. "Oh, Harry, would you drop by my office after Divination this afternoon? There's something I'd like to discuss with you."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco, who were all headed out of the classroom together turned to look at the professor. "You three may join him if you like. The matter I wish to discuss is related to family, but it's not a family matter, if you understand the difference, and since you three are aware of the family connection, it may be beneficial for you to understand what's going on."

Four heads nodded, and they exited the classroom, chatting about the really excellent lesson. Professor Marion chuckled to himself, gathered his things and exited as well. Dexter the cat had never moved from his spot on the desk.

* * *

Lucius had paid another visit to Voldemort. He really hated traveling to the Riddle Mansion, and he certainly hated having to grovel for the Dark Lord and that sniveling wretch Wormtail, but such was the price of future greatness and glory. 

Voldemort had been stewing on the problem of Severus Snape. It had not pleased him that one of his most trusted servants and spies was actually a double agent. When Lucius had shown up empty-handed yet again, Voldemort had been rather incensed. Lucius was quite glad that Voldemort was as yet too weak to assume his "normal" form; the Dark Lord was capable of inflicting significant amounts of pain in his current condition and Lucius Malfoy had been on the receiving end of many curses as they discussed Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape.

The Dark Lord was so worked up about the traitorous Potions Master that he had given Lucius another assignment. The trip to Cornwall to secure the Dragon's Tear had been put on hold. Instead, Lucius was to develop a plan for an attack on Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that would serve four distinct purposes.

"One, Lucius," Voldemort had explained, "we will exact vengeance on that traitorous wretch Severus Snape. He will wish I had merely struck him down long before I will allow him to die. Second, you can discipline that spoiled brat of yours, and make good on your promise to force him to kill his mother and give him to me. Regret does not even begin to describe how he will feel about defying me. Third, we will be able to get our hands on Harry Potter, who will be very much necessary for something I have in mind, and then fourth, we will all go to Cornwall - yes Lucius, even Harry Potter, and that bastard of a son of yours - and there we will obtain the Dragon's Tear by whatever means necessary and I will be resurrected at last."

Lucius refrained from correcting Voldemort regarding Draco's legitimacy. Lucius did not have many scruples, but one of them was that he would never have tolerated an illegitimate heir. Thus, Draco was not in fact a bastard, but Lucius decided this was not the time to discuss semantics with the most evil wizard currently in residence on the planet. In fact, Lucius had simply nodded in assent, though he was really quite amazed at the Dark Lord's desire to undertake so bold a plan, backed out of the room, and apparated as quickly as possible back to Malfoy Manor, where he had descended once again into his underground chamber; once again Narcissa Malfoy, hearing the eerie quiet overtake the manor, wondered what evil deeds her husband was contemplating and sadly prayed to whatever god might hear that all would be well with her children.

* * *

Professor Marion was sitting in the combination office/library in his apartment working through his second pot of coffee for the day and contemplating what Albus Dumbledore almost nonchalantly had told him as they passed each other in the hall that morning about Voldemort seeking the Dragon's Tear. He had several old rolls of parchment, and several bound books of his own notes open on the desk, which he was staring at as if he wasn't seeing the pages at all. 

The professor had done extensive research on the Dragon's Tear, and had gone so far as to visit locations in England where he thought it might be several years ago. He was really quite amazed that all that time back in his homeland had not even jogged the slightest memory of his life before he went to America. He was still having trouble adjusting to all the memories of a life forgotten; it was still very surreal, almost like reading someone else's diary, but somehow realizing it is your own.

"Ah well," the professor shrugged mentally, "back to the task at hand." The Dragon's Tear, the professor thought to himself, was most likely hidden somewhere in a small neglected church – a shrine really, in southwestern England. This particular shrine, steeped in legend, was supposed to have been the first of its kind in England that heralded the arrival of Christianity to the British Isles. It had supposedly been built sometime in the third or fourth century, in an area that according to legend was where those who fled the destruction of Atlantis settled. Merlin, who descended from the Atlanteans was thought to have brought the Dragon's Tear to this shrine after King Arthur disappeared from Britain. The Dragon's Tear was supposed to have many magical qualities – Merlin himself was involved in its creation – but most of these qualities were lost or unknown. Professor Marion feared, and Dumbledore concurred, that if Lord Voldemort somehow found and gained possession of the Dragon's Tear, he would be able to assume his normal form, and once again wreak havoc in the wizarding world.

Professor Marion wasn't sure how long he remained lost in these thoughts, but sometime later he was still so deep in his musings that he missed the knock at the door, which was shut, but not latched.

"Uncle Brandon?" said a tentative voice. Professor Marion jumped.

"Bloody hell, I mean, er, good heavens." The professor looked up at his nephew, embarrassed at his outburst. "Sorry, Harry, you surprised me. Come in and have a seat."

Harry smiled at his uncle, and sat in one of the chairs on the other side of the desk, though not before taking a long look at what his uncle had been working on.

Professor Marion, seeing Harry's perusal of his desk said, "Er, let's go into the living room, shall we?" He guided Harry out of the library and back into the main room of the apartment, and they sat in a couple of overstuffed chairs in front of the fire.

"Coffee?"

Harry looked oddly at his uncle. He couldn't figure out why the older Potter liked coffee so much. "Er, no thanks. Why don't you drink tea, uncle?"

Professor Marion frowned. "Well, I suppose I remember drinking tea now that you mention it, but ever since I went to the States, I have to have coffee." He waved his hand and conjured some tea for Harry, who fixed himself a cup.

"How much exactly do you drink a day?"

"I haven't really thought about it. Let's see. There's three cups at breakfast, two cups during morning classes, another two cups at lunch, then four cups in the afternoon, and another couple of cups in the evening."

"That's an awful lot of coffee."

Professor Marion shrugged. He and Harry continued to sit and sip their respective beverages. Neither was particularly sure what to say next. Professor Marion still marveled that the little baby he now remembered was sitting in front of him, a teenager. He wanted to know everything his brother's son had experienced, and regretted missing so much of Harry's life. Harry, on the other hand, was having trouble digesting the fact that he was sitting across from his Dad's brother – his own uncle! He wanted to ask his uncle so many things - about his parents, about what it was like growing up in America – but he didn't know where to start. Both Harry and his uncle were very glad they would be able to spend time together, and make up for time lost.

"So, tell me, Harry, what do you think of my classes? I'm very new at this you know, so don't worry about hurting my feelings; I've got pretty thick skin."

"Actually, I've enjoyed it so far, but it is really different. I don't know if I can explain it. It's like you're our teacher and all that, but you're also a lot less…er, stuffy, than our other professors. I like it. I know I'm probably not really a good person to ask. You are my uncle, and that's a bit weird, too."

"Yes, it's definitely taken some getting used to the idea that I have a nephew. I'm glad you like the class so far. The duel today was something wasn't it?" Professor Marion smiled broadly at Harry. "I don't think the class quite knew what to do when you accused me of being too old to duel. That was well done, but I think we might need to be a bit less familiar in class. Not everyone knows we're related."

"I know, uncle," Harry said, in a somewhat downcast tone. "It's just that, well, I've not really ever had any family, and then to have an uncle here at Hogwarts, it's like….like it's not real, and I almost feel like I have to make sure it's true, that I'm not dreaming or anything."

Unbeknownst to Harry and Professor Marion, they had left the front door of the Professor's apartment ajar. Ron, Hermione, and Draco had been at the point of knocking when they noticed the door ajar and listened in on the conversation between the two Potters. Upon hearing Harry's last statement they all traded glances and listened attentively.

Professor Marion reached over to his nephew and lifted his face up so that deep green eyes were looking into now blue-green ones. "I understand, Harry, because I feel the same way. It just doesn't seem real. You need to know that even though I'm not your father, I love you very much, and I'll always be here. You don't have to worry about being alone anymore."

Harry nodded, overcome with emotion. Then he noticed his uncle's eyes. "Your eyes, they're blue-green. What does that mean?"

The professor chuckled. "You can't leave that alone, can you?" Harry shook his head in response. "All right, I'll tell you. Normally, my eyes are hazel – that means happy, but when they're green, I'm in a serious mood, blue means sad, and if you ever see them gray, watch out, because it means I'm very, very angry."

"Note to self," Harry mumbled to himself. At this point Hermione, Ron, and Draco decided it was probably OK to interrupt, and they knocked loudly on the door before entering the professor's apartment.

Professor Marion looked up and saw the three other students entering. "Do come in! Let me find you a place to sit." He conjured up three matching chairs, and the newcomers sat down. "What would everyone like to drink? Harry has tea by him, and I've got coffee here, if any of you would prefer that." Hermione and Ron took tea. Draco, whose eyes had lit up at the mention of coffee (Harry couldn't help but smirk at seeing Draco's reaction), helped himself as well. "Harry and I were just talking about the duel that took place in class today."

"That was a pretty mean trick you pulled on me, Uncle Brandon, making me duel Draco one-handed and _then_ making me duel you!" Harry said grumpily.

"Wow, Harry you sounded just like Malfoy here," Ron interjected with his mouth full of scone. Hermione whacked him on the arm with the back of her hand. "What was that…oh, right. Sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

Now Draco was grumpy too. He didn't like being called a whiner, even implicitly. "Yes you did, Weasley. And I do not whine, for your information." Everyone except Professor Marion and Draco had to work to keep from laughing upon hearing that pronouncement from the Slytherin boy; Draco looked even grumpier.

"Anyway," the professor interjected, sensing it would be best to change the subject quickly, "it was rather a dirty trick of me, but it did put you in more of a real-world dueling situation than a very controlled classroom, and that will be valuable experience for all of you to have."

"Er, professor, what exactly happened in your duel with Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Ah, now that's a good question, Hermione. What do you think happened?"

"Well, it looked like you were doing spell-less magic. I know that most people can do magic using only a wand or gestures for simple things, like turning a doorknob and such, but you and Harry were throwing some powerful hexes back and forth, and that's pretty rare, isn't it?" The bushy-haired girl had a frown on her face.

"Yes it is. As we all know, Harry is a very powerful wizard, as are all of you by the way, though, unfortunately, not as powerful as Harry is, or will be, once he's fully grown."

"Gee, I never saw that one coming," Draco said dryly.

"That's actually why I wanted to talk to Harry, and the three of you. Harry, you are a Potter, as am I, and Potters, like all old wizarding families inherit certain magical abilities, almost like genes. Draco, for example, is an excellent Seer. That particular talent is in the Malfoy magical "gene", so to speak. Weasley's tend to be very good at Charms; Potters, for whatever reason, are gifted with the ability to do spell-less magic, among other things. This is amplified in you because of your peculiar power."

"Wow," all four students said at once.

"You said, 'among other things' uncle. Do Potters have other inherent talents?"

"Er…yes." Professor Marion looked a bit uncomfortable, but he went ahead. "You will find that given the level of your magical ability, you will probably also eventually be able to do wandless magic, though this is not inherent to the Potter clan. We have one other gift – that of being able to sense magical ability in others once we are trained to do so."

"Will you train me?"

"Yes, but not this instant, dear boy. Patience!" The professor laughed. All four students weren't really sure how to react to this news of Harry's additional abilities. They all knew he was a powerful wizard, they just didn't know what that would entail. Seeing their confusion, Professor Marion decided to change the subject yet again. "What do you four think about a Quidditch match this Saturday?"

"Hermione doesn't play Quidditch."

"But I will certainly come and watch, Ronald," Hermione added testily.

"I think it's a brilliant idea. Can we get enough together to play a real game?" asked Harry.

"I think so, if Malfoy will play, that is." Harry, not to mention Draco, was surprised that Ron had asked Draco if he would play as well.

"I'll play. It's not as if I'm likely to be playing on the Slytherin team this year anyway," he sighed.

"Excellent! Let's meet on the pitch at ten in the morning." They all chatted amiably for a few minutes longer, then Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco all left to head for the library and their evening homework. Professor Marion went back into his study to ponder the problem of the Dragon's Tear once more.

* * *

After they arrived in the library, Harry said, "Do you remember when I told you about Dumbledore mentioning the Dragon's Tear to my uncle?" The other three students nodded. "When I went to see my uncle this afternoon, he was in his study, and his desk was covered with things related to the Dragon's Tear." 

"That's interesting," Ron said. "One question: what the Dragon's Tear?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, then realized _he_ didn't know what it was either. Both Draco and Hermione had similar expressions on their faces. Harry, Ron and Hermione all started to grin at each other; Draco looked suspiciously from one to the other. "Why is it," he said slowly, "that I have the feeling we're about to embark on some bloody Gryffindor quest/adventure/whatever, and that I'm going to regret having anything to do with it whatsoever?" Harry, Ron, and Hermione's adventures were legend at Hogwarts, and Draco was very much less-than-enthusiastic about being pulled into the middle of one of the Golden Trio's misadventures.

"Oh come on Draco, you've got to admit, it'll be fun to find out what my uncle's up to, and besides, now that you've defected, it's not like we're trying to stop you from opening the Chamber of Secrets." Harry couldn't resist prodding his old enemy a bit.

Draco harrumphed, and crossed his arms in a most pouty manner. "Whatever. I can't believe you actually thought I was the Heir of Slytherin. Honestly."

"Uh-oh, he's whining. Maybe we should call it a night. You know how grumpy Draco gets when it's his bedtime." Harry had gone just a bit too far that time.

"Alright, Potter. I don't need this from you. I'm leaving. I'll see the three of you later." Draco grabbed his things with his good arm and stormed off toward the Slytherin dormitories, cursing under his breath.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all a bit surprised at Draco's reaction. Harry said in a low voice, "I think I may have hit a nerve. I'll let him cool down for a bit, then go help him get ready for bed."

"Good idea, mate," Ron agreed, and they chatted for a few more minutes about the Dragon's Tear. Hermione had that thoughtful look on her face, as if trying to recall some reference to the thing she had seen in a book somewhere.

"Well, I'll see you two later. Stay out of trouble." Harry winked at Ron, who immediately blushed bright red. Hermione just rolled her eyes.

Draco was really quite angry with Harry as he stormed back to the Slytherin dormitories, as he wasn't even sure why. As he thought about it, he decided that he wasn't really angry. He was hurt. Hurt! It was nearly unthinkable that Draco would allow himself to be hurt by mere words, especially from Harry Potter. But, the fact of the matter was that Harry Potter was the only person Draco could even begin to think about calling a friend. Draco had trusted Harry, and Harry had called him a whiner! It really hurt, and he didn't know what he was going to do or say when Harry showed up in a few minutes to help Draco get ready for bed. Draco knew that Harry would show up, of course, because he was Harry, and in that sense was really quite predictable. Draco arrived at his bedroom – he didn't even recall giving the password to the Slytherin Common Room, and sat down on his bed to wait, trying to figure out what to do.

Harry felt worse and worse about what he'd said to Draco the closer he got to the Slytherin dormitories. It wasn't that what he'd said was particularly evil, just a little insensitive. He hadn't expected Draco to react so strongly, and even if Harry's statement was true, he probably shouldn't have thrown it in Draco's face.

Harry, too, arrived at Draco's room without even really realizing he was there already, and he knocked tentatively before entering. Draco was sitting with his arms crossed, looking pissed off.

"Er…hi." Harry figured it would be best to just get the unpleasantness over with. "Listen, Draco, I'm sorry I made you angry. I didn't realize it was such a big deal, and I…um, should have been more sensitive about it." Harry was very uncomfortable apologizing to Draco, but that was mostly because he wasn't sure how the other boy would react.

Surprisingly, Draco's features softened. "It's fine, Harry. I know you didn't mean anything by it. I guess I just had a bit of a 'relapse', so to speak. I'll get over it." Draco was a little astonished that he accepted Harry's apology so easily. There was just something about the Gryffindor boy that made it impossible to be mad at him, especially when he apologized.

The two boys went through their nightly routine, both looking forward to the time when they wouldn't have to go through it, but each a little anxious, because they had really come to enjoy each other's company, though neither could have told exactly why or how that was.

* * *

Saturday turned out not to be the best day for Quidditch, but that didn't stop anyone from playing. The day had started overcast and cool, and while the temperature never really dropped, by the time the match had been going for about 45 minutes, rain was falling heavily, making it hard to see and turning the pitch in a quagmire of mud and sand. 

The interesting thing about the match was that Harry and Draco had ended up being the only two players who were on the house teams. Everyone else who showed up to take part just liked to play.

Since Draco and Harry were on the teams, they were chosen as captains for the match, and they took turns picking players. Harry had chosen his uncle first, and Draco had surprised everyone by picking up Ron. Then Harry had chosen Seamus Finnegan, a couple of Ravenclaw girls, a Hufflepuff boy, and Professor McGonagall who showed up to play looking like she would eat alive anyone who made comments about her playing abilities. Draco had picked a couple of younger Slytherin boys, who looked most unhappy about having to play on Draco's team, Madam Hooch, and a couple of very scared looking Ravenclaw girls as well.

The match was progessing well when it started to rain. Harry and Draco had ended up as Seekers – Harry because everyone knew he was the best Seeker, and Draco because he was a good seeker, too, but mostly because of his bad arm. Seeker was the least strength-intensive position. Harry had wanted his uncle to play seeker, but Professor Marion demurred, saying that he was too far out of practice, and that he would another time.

Thus it was when it started raining that things were very much _status quo ante_ on the Quidditch pitch. Harry and Draco were above the action, both looking for the snitch. "All right there, scarhead?" Draco had yelled without any malice in his voice, for old time's sake.

"Bite me, Malfoy." Harry smiled at Draco, who just looked back at him, one eyebrow raised, and then suddenly he shot past Harry, who immediately turned to follow.

Draco had seen the snitch pass just the other side of Harry's head as they exchanged words. Both Draco and Harry chased the snitch toward the other end of the field, a mere two feet off the ground. Draco was much closer than Harry to the snitch, but Harry had the faster broom. Draco inched ever closer to the elusive golden orb, knowing that he needed to hurry or Harry would pull ahead of him. This was Draco's undoing, for as they raced on and on, two blurs of speed chasing an even blurrier golden flash, Draco became impatient and reached for the Snitch, leaning just a little too far forward on his broom. This motion unbalanced him and he toppled headfirst onto the pitch, which was only two feet under him, at top speed. He rolled over once and when the weight of his body fell on his injured collarbone, he screamed as the white-hot pain seared through him, then passed out.

Harry saw Draco lose his balance and go flying, literally, but he didn't stop to help immediately, though he wanted to. The match was still on, and so he sped up to catch the Snitch, then went to see about Draco.

He still managed to get to Draco before anyone else. Draco was unconscious, but other than that and the fact that he was covered in mud from having effectively rolled in it, appeared to be alright. Harry knelt over the blonde boy, and slapped him lightly on the face. "Draco, wake up! Are you alright?" It took Harry several tries to rouse Draco.

"Oooooo….it hurts," Draco moaned, and then his eyes went wide as he turned over and vomited. The pain was making him nauseous. By this time the rest of the players had arrived, and Harry wiped Draco's mouth clean with his robe then helped Draco stand, supporting him under his good shoulder.

Draco was bobbing in and out of consciousness, the pain in his shoulder was so great. "I'll take him to the hospital wing. I'm kinda used to it by now." Harry smirked, but Draco was in too much pain to even be aware of his surroundings. "I'll see you guys later." Harry and Draco very slowly made their way up to the hospital wing; Draco was delirious.

Madam Pomfrey threw a fit when she saw Draco's condition. "Who in their right mind would let him play with a broken collarbone. I'm going to speak to those professors. I don't care what they do to me!" She was really very angry, and even Harry telling her that Draco refused to sit out the game did not mollify her. She gave him a pain potion right away and said, "He's going to have to stay the rest of the day at least, and I'll need to look at his collarbone, but there is no way he's getting into one of my beds like that. Potter, why don't you help me get him out of these filthy clothes and into the shower?"

Draco roused himself enough at this to protest. The pain potion was starting to take effect. "What in the world is he going on about? He must be delirious, the poor boy."

"Actually, ma'am, Draco is really quite shy. I don't think he wants you to, erm, take off his clothes," Harry blushed slightly. Draco nodded somewhat vigorously, though it made him nauseous again.

"Nonsense, he doesn't have anything I haven't seen before."

"I'll take care of it ma'am. Really. He's very self-conscious," Harry protested.

"Fine, Potter. I'll be back in thirty minutes to check on him. Really, who ever heard of such nonsense." Madam Pomfrey stalked out of the room in a huff.

Draco was feeling the effects of the potion, but was only able to mutter a weak "Thank you" as Harry maneuvered him into the shower. He began to remove Draco's robes, and the other boy began to protest again.

"Draco, be reasonable. I know you're shy, but I don't think you should be left alone, and it's either me or Madam Pomfrey."

Draco was feeling pretty bad still, but he felt well enough to wash himself. "If you'll help me get out of the clothes I think I can wash myself." He still sounded week.

"Well, alright, but I'm staying in here, just in case." Harry was firm.

"OK." A few minutes later, Draco was in the shower, leaning against the cool tiles. They had managed to get him undressed without either Harry or Draco becoming unduly embarrassed. Draco managed to shower by himself, and Harry handed him a towel through the shower curtain, which allowed Draco to maintain a shred of dignity.

They were back in the main room of the hospital wing when Madam Pomfrey returned to check on Draco.

"Well, there doesn't seem to be any additional damage, though I daresay he's had a setback on healing that break, and he'll be in a lot more pain for a few days. You will stay here and rest for the remainder of the day and then you may return to your dormitory tonight."

"I'll stay with him," Harry volunteered.

"You don't have to do that, Harry. I'll be fine."

"I know. I don't mind." Harry and Draco chatted for a few minutes then Draco fell asleep. They had several visitors after lunch. Ron and Hermione brought in stuff to do homework, and they passed the afternoon catching up on assignments as Draco dozed on and off. Harry's uncle came in for dinner with a few bottles of butterbeer for a treat ("Don't tell Madam Pomfrey"). They all talked about how much fun the match had been, in spite of Draco's mishap, and decided that they would make the matches a regular occurrence.

As he got up to leave, Professor Marion said, "Oh by the way Harry, I've made arrangements for you to sleep in Draco's room tonight, in case he needs something. He seems most comfortable with you anyway." The professor looked at Draco knowingly, and then turned and left.

Draco pretended to look perturbed, but he was really glad that Harry would stay the night in his room. He really was more comfortable with the raven-haired boy around, for some reason. Draco wondered how Professor Marion had known that Draco had been wondering if Harry would mind staying with him, but he was thankful he hadn't had to bring up the subject himself. That would just have been embarrassing. He also secretly hoped that the professor couldn't read minds, or if he could, that it wasn't another one of the Potter "genes". That would make being Harry Potter's friend an unbearable nuisance, to say the least.

Around eight in the evening, Madam Pomfrey returned one last time to send Draco and Harry to the dormitory. Ron and Hermione said goodbye and walked out of the hospital wing. Harry saw them grab each other's hands as they went through the door, and made a mental note to ask them later why they were being so secretive. Harry and Draco walked down to Draco's room and got settled for the night, Draco in his bed, and Harry in a cot placed close to the fireplace – but not too close.

As Harry tried to fall asleep in a strange place, he wondered how it was that he seemed to be spending almost as much time in the Slytherin rooms as in his own, and he came to the realization that he was spending an awful lot of time "taking care" of Draco. In the twilight of drowsiness where some thoughts are obscured and others are illuminated for just a moment, Harry realized that this no longer bothered him. Draco had somehow in spite of everything become Harry's friend. He wondered if Draco felt the same way, and with that thought he fell asleep. Draco, across the room in the other bed, was already snoring.


	12. The Plot Thickens

**Author's Note: Well, somehow I managed to get another chapter completed and posted before I go on vacation. I hope everyone has/had/will have a pleasant (insert religious holiday here) or Winter Solstice. I'm a Christmas kind of person myself, so I'm now basking in the afterglow, so to speak. Special thanks to freakhaven for being the inspiration for a lot of this chapter. She very kindly suggested that Professor Marion was in danger of becoming a little one-dimensional because he was almost too perfect. Must be rough. Thanks again to everyone who reads and reviews this, and Happy New Year!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, it's fun,rated 'K+'; not your cup of tea? Use the force...er, the 'back' button. No furry woodland creatures were harmed in creation of this chapter. Professor Marion has a bad couple of days, Harry's bank account takes a beating, and Draco gets pantsed. If that's a word. On with the show.**

**Chapter 12 – The Plot Thickens**

The next morning at breakfast Professor Marion was seated next to Hagrid, chatting amiably about Spade-Footed Gangletoppers when he looked up to see the Headmaster standing over him, smiling.

"I wonder, Professor Marion, if you would have a minute to chat in my office after you've finished breakfast? Do not rush." Professor Marion nodded, surprised. "Excellent, I will see you shortly." The Headmaster then ambled off toward his office whistling tunelessly.

For some reason, Brandon Marion felt like he had just been called to the principal's office. It turned out that this was accurate. Professor Dumbledore had heard, third-hand, about the incident on the Quidditch pitch the day before, and had been slightly curious as to why Draco Malfoy had been allowed to take part in the game in the first place, and why he, as Headmaster, hadn't been informed directly of Draco's injuries. Professor Marion had left the Headmaster's office feeling much like he had after every visit to the Headmaster's office during his school years at Hogwarts. It was well known that both James and Brandon Potter were sent to see the Headmaster on a regular basis, and this most recent visit had left Professor Marion feeling again like the twelve-year old boy he once had been. The Headmaster had not gotten angry, or even really chastised the young professor, he simply radiated an aura of disappointment and reminded the professor of his responsibilities; this was punishment enough for the professor, who left the Headmaster's office feeling quite dejected.

* * *

September turned quickly into October with the accompanying change in the weather. Leaves on trees began to turn and a few overexcited ones even fell. Students and teachers alike began to dig through their wardrobes in an effort to find their winter clothing, just in case there was an unexpected cold snap. Professor Marion, whose wardrobe was more well-suited for the southern United States than for Scotland, found himself most unprepared for the onset of autumn. Hermione came to the rescue by taking a break from knitting clothing for the house-elves and knitting the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor a nice scarf, which he seemed to be wearing every time Hermione was around. 

Draco and the Golden Trio (some more suspicious and brave students were now surreptitiously referring to the four of them as the Golden Quartet; a very few very foolish or very brave students referred to Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco as the 'Unholy Alliance', but never out loud) continued their routine, even after Draco's collarbone had healed sufficiently to remove the sling by the end of September. At first there had been no small amount of anxiety on both Harry and Draco's part (though they didn't talk about it); they had both become quite fond of each other, and they were afraid they wouldn't get to enjoy their developing friendship without the superficial excuse of Draco's broken collarbone as a reason for them to be seen together. They shouldn't have worried. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco still had all of their classes together (Harry had taken over as Draco's Potions partner by now), they studied together in the library in the evenings, and as Ron and Hermione sometimes were so engrossed in each other while they did homework, Harry and Draco had plenty of time to 'hang out', as Harry's uncle called it. None of the students seemed to understand some of the professor's Americanisms. Harry had asked about 'hanging out' and when his uncle had explained the meaning said, "Wow. I always called that 'being bored.'

Indeed, Harry and Draco had discovered that in spite of their past differences, they had many things in common. Draco found Harry to be impulsive, emotional, relatively smart, completely loyal, and annoying. He also found the raven-haired boy easy to talk to and relate to. He was humble, modest, and very down to earth. Harry found Draco to be uptight, arrogant, totally brilliant, and very sly and calculating. He was obnoxious, whiny, bigoted, and a prat. He also found Draco easy to talk to. They were getting along famously. They did occasionally feel the need to downplay their friendship as some of the students were fairly suspicious of the two of them. Harry had heard mutterings, as had Draco through Ivy, that some students thought Draco was "up to something" and trying to get into Harry's good graces, for some sinister purpose. The Slytherins thought they had the real scoop; only a select few knew the real truth.

Professor Marion had initially been quite suspicious of Draco's friendship with Harry as well. He had been cured of this when he heard a knock on his apartment door one evening after dinner. He knew it wasn't Harry – the professor's nephew never knocked any more, he just walked in and made himself comfortable.

"Oh, hello Draco. I'm surprised to see you. Harry's not here at the moment. I'm not sure where he is actually," the professor said with a frown. Professor Marion couldn't recall when he'd seen Draco without Harry; the blond boy was quite clingy, in the professor's opinion.

"Yes, sir…he's at Quidditch practice…er, I uh…" Draco trailed off looking most uncomfortable.

Draco and Professor Marion stared at each other for a few moments. Draco was wondering if it had been wise to seek out Harry's uncle, in spite of the professor's invitation. Professor Marion was trying to assess his feelings towards Harry's new friend. Lucius Malfoy, during the professor's school years, while not openly involved with You-Know-Who, had been clearly predisposed in that direction. He was cunning, sly, and almost obsessive about the need to maintain the "purity" of the wizarding world. There were even rumors that he had been involved in some suspicious occurrences involving Dark magic; nothing was ever proven. It was a well known fact that all Malfoys had been predisposed for centuries to the Dark arts, and Professor Marion had no reason to believe that young Draco was any different. The fact that he and Harry had suddenly become friends made the Professor even more suspicious, but because Dumbledore seemed willing to go along with it, he had not spoken of his concern to Harry. Professor Marion looked at the boy in front of him and wondered what made him different. Seeing Draco's obvious discomfort, he set that thought aside for the moment, and decided he should invite the Slytherin boy in, to be polite, if for no other reason.

"I've just conjured some fresh coffee. Why don't you come in and have a cup, and we can chat for a bit." The blonde boy entered somewhat tentatively, but smiled brightly when the professor mentioned coffee.

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

They seated themselves in the overstuffed chairs in front of the fire, where Dexter was sleeping, uninterested as ever. Draco, having doctored his coffee with an impressive amount of cream and sugar, was looking nervously around the room, as if he were trying to gather his courage to speak. Professor Marion decided to be direct. "Draco, why don't you tell me what happened to you this summer?" He took a sip of his coffee, and watched the boy over the rim of his coffee cup as he did so.

Draco's eyes went a little wide, but the Malfoy training kicked in, and he maintained his composure. "You mean Harry hasn't told you?"

"Just the barest details that you sent him and Dumbledore a letter saying that you were afraid to become a Death Eater."

Draco nodded resignedly and told Professor Marion about his childhood and how his father had changed over the years following Voldemort's banishment by baby Harry Potter. He talked about the events of the summer, and his sister and mother, and how he was worried about them. He talked about how hurt he had been when Harry had rejected his friendship their first year, and how Draco had hated Harry for that. Draco found that the more he talked about it the easier it got, even if it was still very hard to bring it up, or admit all these feelings and emotions to anyone else.

Professor Marion was forced to re-evaluate his perception of Draco Malfoy. It was true that the Malfoy predisposition toward the Dark Arts was very much there, but there was a short time when Lucius Malfoy had amazingly been a good, caring father, and something stuck in young Draco. Professor Marion was surprised at the depth of feeling and maturity in the blond boy. He now felt much more comfortable that Draco's sudden friendship with Harry was not the result of a spur-of-the-moment decision on Draco's part, or even of some evil plan of Lord Voldemort's. Rather, it was the tangible action brought about by years of stifled feelings and emotions working their way to the surface of a very confused and emotional but cautious, intelligent, and rational teenager.

Both Professor Marion and Draco Malfoy were feeling more comfortable with the situation. As such, Professor Marion gently said, "I have the feeling you didn't show up on my doorstep just so I would have the opportunity to interrogate you; nor did you need to come to my apartment just for a cup of coffee."

Draco looked uncomfortable again. The fact of the matter was that he was really feeling down about everything going on in _his_ life at the moment, and needed to talk to someone, but Harry was at Quidditch practice with the rest of the Gryffindor team. Normally, Draco could have waited, but for some reason, the need to vent was pressing on Draco like an anvil, and he remembered that Harry's uncle had told him if he needed anything he was welcome, so Draco had gathered up his courage and went to see Professor Marion. "Well…I guess…um, I just felt like I needed to talk to someone, and Harry's at Quidditch, and normally I'd talk to him, but I can't so I remembered that you said to let you know if you could ever do anything, and…"

Professor Marion figured it was most unusual for Draco to be as nervous and fidgety as he appeared right now. Draco was always very calm and self-possessed, both in class, and when they interacted outside the classroom. He interrupted the boy, "Draco, it's all right. There's no need to be nervous. It's perfectly okay for you to be bent out of shape about something and need to talk. Just because you've been raised a Malfoy doesn't mean you have to be an unemotional robot all the time. Sometimes, it's OK to be a nearly fourteen-year-old boy. In fact, most of the time it's OK." The edges of the professor's mouth quirked up in the barest hint of a smile. "What is it you wanted to talk about?"

Draco nodded, relieved. He was being a bit foolish, really, and the professor was very reassuring, just like Harry always was. 'That must run in the family, too,' he thought.

"I think I'm just having a hard time because all my life I thought I had lots of friends, and everybody wanted to be like me. I'm Draco Malfoy, for Merlin's sake, who wouldn't want to be like me?" Draco said sarcastically. "Now everyone hates me, and I don't know how to deal with that."

"Ah, I see. You feel alone."

Draco smiled sadly, "You said that much better than I did."

"I understand. Draco, do you have any friends?"

"What? Of course I do! Well, I did. Now, really, Harry is my only friend, I suppose," he said sadly, looking down at his feet.

"You've learned a lot since the summer, haven't you? About yourself and about life and friendships?"

Draco had no clue where the professor was going with this. "Er, I suppose so," he said with a confused look on his face.

"I think there's one more thing you need to learn. You may think Harry is your only friend, but he's not. It's true your old 'friends,' who were never really your friends anyway, have deserted you. You've made new friends, and I can tell you definitively that because you've been a good friend to Harry, you have other friends that you may not even know about. In fact, you may have 'friends' that you would not consider friends except for your friendship with my nephew."

Draco still looked confused. "You mean that a person who I don't like and who doesn't like me might be my friend just because Harry is? That doesn't make any sense. Why would they do that?"

"You're right, that doesn't make any sense. You may not like someone very much, but you still care about them because someone you care about sees value in that person and cares about them. It's kind of a respect thing." Draco looked more confused. "Here, take Ron Weasley for example." Draco gritted his teeth slightly. "You don't particularly like Ron, and he doesn't like you. But the two of you are nice to each other, right?"

"Yes…" Draco admitted grudgingly.

"And Ron would back you up in a tight situation, right?"

"Well, yes, but only because Harry would do the same thing," grumbled Draco.

Professor Marion thought, 'Harry's right, this boy really is kind of whiny. "Exactly! Ron may not like you very much, but he treats you as a friend because you and he are both Harry's friends. He respects you in the same way he respects Harry, and because of his respect for Harry."

Draco looked thoughtful. Professor Marion thought he could see the light bulb go off in the blond boy's head.

"Think on that for a while, Draco and I think you will find that you have more friends than you know, and that you are not nearly as alone as you think. In time, those 'friends by association' will become real friends. You'll see."

Draco's brain was hurting, but his heart felt better. He and Professor Marion chatted for a few more minutes, then the Slytherin boy took his leave, bending over to scratch Dexter, who hadn't moved from his place in front of the fire, on his way out the door. As he left Professor Marion said to the cat in a low voice, "There, Dexter, is proof that you should not judge a book by it's cover." He poured himself another cup of coffee and contemplated the strangeness of a world where a Malfoy had something less than a heart of stone.

* * *

Harry had continued to spend time during his free period with his Uncle. They spent most of their time asking each other questions about their respective pasts, and though he had tried, Harry had been unable to find anything else out about the Dragon's Tear. His uncle was far too careful about keeping his research out of the sight of prying eyes. Harry had learned that his own first name was his uncle's middle name – Brandon Harold Potter. That had given Harry a nice, warm feeling. Harry couldn't begin to describe how it felt to have family again. 

Brandon was equally glad to have been reunited with what was left of his family, but over the course of the previous several weeks he had found it increasingly difficult to deal with the emotions of being inserted suddenly into his forgotten life. On one hand, he was grateful that Professor Dumbledore had acted to save Brandon from meeting the same fate as his brother, but at the same time, he saw the Headmaster making similar decisions with Harry, and he had to wonder why the Headmaster felt empowered to play God with other people's lives.

The professor continued to put up a strong front, teaching his classes, organizing impromptu Quidditch matches on the weekends, and spending time with his nephew, who was becoming very fond of his uncle. Unfortunately, the questions that Harry asked often dredged up memories that Brandon would have preferred to keep buried. It all came to a head one afternoon a few days after the professor's conversation with Draco Malfoy when Harry asked about Sirius Black.

"Uncle Brandon, did you know my Godfather?"

"You mean Sirius Black?"

"Yes."

The professor was slient for a moment, as if trying to remember something long-forgotten. "Somewhat. He was your Dad's best friend after all. Mostly I remember that he and James liked to torment me, when they couldn't find Severus Snape, that is.

"Did you ever hear what happened to him after my parents were killed?" Harry asked softly.

"Yes. I do recall Dumbledore telling me about it when he explained why I had to go live with my distant relatives in America," Brandon replied cautiously. Strange and uncomfortable memories were stirring in his brain.

"It was all wrong," Harry stated simply.

"What?" The professor looked wide-eyed at his nephew.

"It wasn't Sirius that betrayed my parents. It was Petter Pettigrew."

Brandon was in the process of sipping on his cup of coffee, not surprisingly, and this simple statement caused him to choke on the hot liquid. It was some moments before he could stop coughing long enough to respond in a shaky voice, "Peter….Peter Pettigrew?"

"Yes." Harry explained all about the events of the prior year, about Professor Lupin and Sirius Black escaping from Azkaban, and Peter Pettigrew, and how Sirius was now on the run.

Brandon had to think fast. The mention of Peter Pettigrew called some long forgotten memories to the torpid surface of the professor's brain – memories that would have to be dealt with, but in front of his nephew was not the right time or place. He wondered why Professor Dumbledore hadn't reminded him of all this. 'I'll add that to the list of things I want to ask him when the time is right,' he thought darkly.

"I…see," was all Brandon could bring himself to say. He and Harry chatted for several minutes longer before Harry went to study with the rest of the Golden Quartet. As he exited his uncle's apartment, he noted that his uncle had begun acting strangely at the mention of Sirius and Peter Pettigrew, and wondered what that was all about.

After his nephew left, Brandon Marion rose from his chair, and with shaking hands walked slowly into his study and locked the door. There he unlocked a cabinet that stood discreetly in the corner – it was only opened on very rare and needful occasions - and pulled out a bottle labeled 'Jack Daniel's Tennessee Whisky' and poured a three-finger shot into the glass on the top shelf of the cabinet. He knocked back the stiff drink and then collapsed into his chair, one hand rubbing his face, thinking furiously.

'Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. Why didn't I remember this before?' he thought. 'Sirius was at the Quidditch match earlier in the week James and Lily died. It was Slytherin vs. Gryffindor, and he and James always liked to watch me play. James wasn't there because he and Lily and Harry were in hiding, but Sirius came to watch anyway. I remember asking him where they were in hiding, like a fool, and Sirius patted me on the back and said, "I'd not tell you even if I knew, Brandon, which I don't because I'm not the Secret-Keeper. Peter Pettigrew is." I can't believe I didn't remember that conversation later after I'd heard that Sirius betrayed my brother, and they were all dead except for Harry. Everything was so confusing, and I was no older than Harry is now.' The professor got up and poured himself another drink.

He was remembering more, 'Peter Pettigrew. I always wondered why Sirius, Remus, and James put up with him. I remember walking down to the Quidditch pitch with my broom the day after the match to do some flying by myself when I overheard someone saying something about "still at school" and "take care of him after the elder," but when I called out, and walked toward the where the voice had come from the edge of the forest, the only thing I saw was a scared looking rat that immediately ran away. That must have been Peter Pettigrew, talking to someone about having me killed, after James and Lilly. I heard, and I knew, but I didn't put it all together. I could have prevented all of it, and I didn't.' With that realization, Brandon Marion got up and poured his third very stiff drink. Returning once again to his chair he said to himself, 'How in the world do I tell Harry that I could have stopped Voldemort from killing his parents and throwing my brother's best friend in prison? How do I clear Sirius Black's name, a pitiful gesture, really, when you consider how royally I've screwed up so many lives, without giving away who I am, and endangering both Harry and myself again?' There were no answers for the now-tormented professor, and he sat there in his office staring at nothing for a very long time.

* * *

At about the same time as Brandon Marion was confronting his inner demons, Draco had been pondering his Potions professor. He hadn't really had time to process it before, but he was just now realizing that Severus Snape was not all that he seemed to be. Draco and Snape had always gotten along well, with Severus a Death Eater, and almost as closely involved with the Dark Lord as Lucius Malfoy. Draco was excellent at Potions, a fact which endeared him to Snape even more, plus he was in Slytherin house. Thus it was that Draco hadn't really been surprised when Snape showed up to rescue Draco from Malfoy Manor, but now that he was thinking about that; the broader implications of Severus going against the Dark Lord where frightening at best. 

Draco heard the door of his room open, and Ivy entered. Draco looked at a clock on the wall. Where had the afternoon gone? He set aside his musings on his Potions professor, and turned to his sister who had a grim look on her face. Seeing the look on her face, he too frowned, and said, "What's the matter, little sis?"

"I've just had the bad fortune to run into Marcus Flint," she said as she sat on Draco's bed. Draco set his quill down on the desk and gave his full attention to his sister. Marcus Flint was the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, for which Draco was Seeker. Strangely, Draco hadn't heard from Flint about practices or anything yet that term.

"And what did Flint want?" asked Draco coldly.

Ivy looked at her older brother with a sad expression. "I'm sorry, Draco, but he said you were off the team, and…well, he asked me to replace you as Seeker, seeing as how I 'still had possession of my mental capacities' is how he put it.' (")

Draco didn't say anything for nearly a minute. Ivy noticed that her brother had gritted his teeth and that a vein in his forehead was throbbing dangerously. She began to get nervous and fidget. Finally, Draco spoke in a very quiet, dangerous voice, "You tell Flint that I don't need to be on his bloody team, and that if he crosses me, I won't need my wand, because I'm going to rip his skin from his bones with my bare hands."

Ivy had never seen her brother that angry. "Y…You're not mad at me Draco, are you?"

Draco's expression softened immediately, and he got up from the desk and walked toward Ivy. She shied away from him, but he put his arm around her anyway. "You? Of course not! You'll make an excellent Seeker; certainly better than any of those other fools on the team. I swear they have two brains– one is lost, and the other one is out looking for the first. Don't worry about it, Ivy. I'll be fine." Draco smiled at his sister.

"Alright, Drakey, I'm trusting you on this. I'll make you proud."

Draco rolled his eyes at his sister. Harry called him 'Drakey' every once in a while too, and he wanted to kick someone every time it happened. "I know you will, sis. You watch out for yourself, OK?"

Ivy nodded, and snuck back out into the hallway. She didn't see the look of cold steel that came over Draco's face before he too left his room to go find Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

He found them in the first place he looked – their usual table at the back of the library. They were whispering quietly about something. Hermione appeared to be rather excited about something she had found in an old tome when Draco exploded onto the scene. "I'm off the bloody team!" he all but yelled, the vein in his forehead throbbing again.

Madam Pince, the librarian, had been re-shelving books several rows over. At Draco's outburst she dropped the books she was carrying, generating a small cloud of dust. Coughing, she hissed, "Quiet!" at the blond boy, who grimaced slightly before responding, "Sorry."

Harry looked at his friend, concerned. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen Draco this worked up about something. Hermione and Ron were looking concerned about it, too.

Draco sat down and related what Ivy had told him.

"Wow, I'm really sorry, Draco. That's awful," Hermione sympathized when Draco had finished.

"Yeah, Malfoy. That's pretty rough," Ron agreed.

Harry tried to be encouraging. "I know she's your sister, Draco," Harry blushed a bit when he mentioned Ivy, "but I seriously doubt she'll be as good a Seeker as you. As for the rest of them, well, they can jump off a cliff for all I care. You can always play with us on the weekends." Draco and Hermione both noticed Harry blushing, and made a mental note; Ron was oblivious as usual.

Draco was surprisingly encouraged at Harry's statement. "Thanks, Harry." He smiled weakly.

Harry continued on, "We were just about to come looking for you. Hermione's found some stuff on the…"

"Shhh!" Hermione admonished him.

"Er, sorry," Harry said in a whisper. "She's found some stuff on the Dragon's Tear." Hermione handed Draco the tome she was reading. It was in runes, which gave Draco no trouble, as he had already taken one year of Ancient Runes at Hogwarts.

"Bloody hell, don't tell me you can read those things too!" exclaimed Ron.

"Not everyone spends their time playing Exploding Snap, Ronald. Some of us like to actually be productive," sniffed Hermione. Draco and Harry both snorted. They all waited quietly while Draco read from the book.

Draco looked up from the book a few minutes later, (.) "So basically, the Dragon's Tear is this big gem that Merlin and King Arthur created that has magical powers. Do we know what magical powers they are?" Hermione handed Draco another book, and he read some more. "Merlin's bloody beard!" he exclaimed some minutes later and he began to read out loud. "'The Dragon's Tear is a powerful amulet that has many magical properties, the foremost of which is its ability to aid the spell caster, under proper conditions, in returning a disembodied soul to its temporal body.' What in the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Hermione replied, "that if your Dad and You-Know-Who get hold of it, and your father knows the right spells…"

"He does. They're all in the secret library under the living room rug."

"Then we'll be throwing a 'Welcome Back, Voldemort' party before you can say 'Moldy Voldy,'". Harry finished. The other three students winced at the word 'Voldemort.' Harry continued on again, "I think my uncle knows where the Dragon's Tear is. That's why he's been studying those documents so much, and I bet Dumbledore knows that Voldemort's up to something, too."

"So, what do we do?" Ron asked. He was munching on a cookie he'd nicked from the kitchens. Crumbs were everywhere on the table in front of him.

"We need to figure out where the bloody thing is hidden. Do you think we could ask my uncle?" Harry said.

"I don't think he'll tell us, Harry," Hermione replied.

"We'll figure something out. Draco, you don't remember anything else in those books of your father's that were needed for that spell, do you?"

The tow-headed boy shook his head. "I'll see what I can remember." Leaving that subject for the time being, the four students then applied themselves to less wide-ranging subjects, namely the transfiguration homework due the following morning.

* * *

There was a Hogsmeade visit scheduled the weekend before Halloween, and since Harry had never been to Hogsmeade legally, he was quite excited. Of course, he had pretty much already seen and done everything in Hogsmeade, so he wasn't sure what he would do once he was there, but that was really beside the point. 

"Ron's taking me to the Tea Parlor," Hermione smiled broadly. She and Ron had finally admitted to Harry when he confronted them a couple of weeks prior that they were 'going out.' It was nothing serious – yet. Ron still got embarrassed every time the subject was brought up. Harry couldn't have been happier for the two of them. "Why don't you check out that old used book store and see if you can find anything interesting on certain topics of interest?"

Harry didn't like the idea of spending his free day in Hogsmeade with a bunch of musty parchment. Maybe he wouldn't go to Hogsmeade after all. Draco had other ideas, however. "My sister and I have to go to Madam Malkin's for some new robes. You're coming with us." His tone left no room for argument.

"I beg your pardon?" Harry asked huffily.

"Look, Harry, you've got plenty of money, so there's no sense in you wearing your cousin's four-sizes-too-big clothing. Ivy and I will help you pick out some nicer, er I mean, nicer-looking things."

"What's wrong with my clothes?" Harry was genuinely confused. Sure his clothes were a little ragged, and a little baggy, but that made it easier for him to move around. It was comfortable.

"Well, nothing, really….alright, everything you own looks horrid, and I imagine that your taste in fashion is equally atrocious, so you're just going to have to trust us, OK?" Draco was whining. Harry couldn't figure out why Draco was so worried about Harry's clothes, but figured it came with being a rich, spoiled brat.

Harry was as unenthusiastic about robe-shopping as he was about book-shopping, but given that no other suitable alternative presented itself, Harry found himself walking down to Hogsmeade with Draco Malfoy. The weirdness of it all was not lost on him.

"We'll 'accidentally' run into my sister outside of Madam Malkins, and pretend to ignore each other, then meet up inside later, when the coast is clear of other students," Draco reminded Harry of the plan they had formulated. "There won't be many other Hogwarts people buying robes this early in the year anyway. I just didn't have the chance to buy anything before the term started."

Harry knew all this, but the repetition was welcome. Upon hearing the plan the first time, Harry had asked, "Do you think we should bring my invisibility cloak, in case someone sees the three of us together and we need to hide or something?"

"You have an Invisibility Cloak? Bloody hell!" Draco had been impressed.

"Yeah, it was my dad's. It comes in handy. I wonder if my uncle has one, too." Harry looked thoughtful. They agreed to take the cloak with them to Hogsmeade.

Harry was very nervous about being around Ivy – he always was. She always made him feel tongue-tied and a little weak in the knees, and he never knew how to act around her. He thought he did a good job of hiding it. Little did he know that Draco had seen Harry's change of behavior around his sister, and thus had arranged for her to join them in Hogsmeade, in spite of the risk of them blowing Ivy's cover, so to speak.

It all went according to plan. Harry and Draco, ignoring the glances from suspicious students who wondered what they were doing walking through Hogsmeade together, ran into Ivy just outside the shop. Their eyes met for just a moment, then Harry and Draco kept going, and Ivy did the same. Harry thought it was odd the way Draco flipped his hair back and scratched his cheek right as he looked at Ivy, but forgot all about it when the walked into the store a couple of minutes later.

Ivy, somehow, was already there, and as the three of them were the only ones in the store, she squealed with delight, "Drakey-poo!" and ran up and hugged her elder brother. Harry laughed out loud, and Draco, who had turned bright red, said through gritted teeth, "You'd better be careful, Potter. Remember who's in charge of your wardrobe." Harry shut up.

The next three hours were pure hell for Harry. He didn't know who was worse – Draco, or Ivy. The made him try on ten pairs of everything, but wouldn't let him choose what he liked. Only Draco or Ivy could actually approve purchases.

"Just think of yourself as a living mannequin, Harry. Well, that and a living bank. Sure am glad I'm not paying for all this stuff. (,)" Draco said encouragingly. Harry was tempted kick Draco in the crotch, just on general principles.

Ivy was equally bad, in a different way. She treated him like he was a baby, and every time he came out of the dressing room, she got very close to him to adjust the waistband of his pants, or she would tug on his shirt or cloak so that it would hang just so. Harry felt himself flushing and the room seemed to get very warm every time Ivy came within two feet of him. She was enjoying Harry's discomfort, and walked around with a mischievous smile on her face, while Draco watched approvingly.

In the end, Harry ended up buying five sets of slacks and shirts, plus three sweaters, three sets of everyday robes, two sets of dress robes, plus three pairs of shoes. He was about to settle the bill, hoping he wouldn't faint, when Draco called, "Not yet, Harry, we still have to buy you a formal outfit."

"I've already got dress robes," Harry said testily.

"Not dress robes, dolt, a formal outfit." Draco pointed to the mannequin in the window. It had on a pair of tight-legged slacks with a shirt and vest, all in the same color black. Instead of a jacket, like would have been found on a muggle suit, a long overcape hung off the shoulders, held in place by a golden chain and clasp across the lower neck.

Harry was fast losing his patience. "What in the bloody hell do I need with one of those?"

"Harry," Draco said sternly, with his arms crossed, "I told you not to argue. Think how great that will look at the Winter Ball." He winked at his sister, who giggled.

"Fine, let's get this over with."

Draco snapped his fingers, and an attendant came forward with an outfit like the one on the mannequin, but in a green so dark that unless you looked at it closely or in a good light, it looked black. Harry had to admit it was a rather impressive garment. "It will highlight your eyes, which everyone knows are the window to your soul.(,)" Draco said as if he were talking about the weather. Harry wondered why it was important for his robes to match his eyes, and how Draco knew that. He shook his head. 'Ignorance is bliss' he thought, and he took the garment to the dressing room.

Twenty minutes later, Harry still hadn't emerged. Ivy who was reading _Witch Weekly_ just outside the dressing room, called in to him, "Are you OK in there, Harry?"

"Yes! Everything's fine," came the response in a very high voice.

Ivy giggled, "I think Harry needs a little bit of help, big brother."

Draco exhaled in exasperation and walked over to the dressing room. He had been admiring the walking sticks. "Potter! Don't tell me you don't know how to put the bloody thing on! Open the door!"

"Go away, Malfoy. Everything's fine."

"You'd better let me in, Harry. These things can be complicated the first time you put them on."

"No. I'll figure it out."

"Harry, we don't have all day."

"Leave it, Malfoy."

"What's the big deal?"

They heard a sigh from the other side of the door, and then Harry said in a small voice. "Let's just say you're not the only one who's shy, OK?" Then they heard the door unlock. Draco motioned to his sister (to) go stand in the main part of the shop, and he opened the door and slipped inside the dressing room, which was actually quite spacious.

"You mean to tell me you gave me a hard time about being modest, when you're even worse? Oh that's rich." Draco tried to be angry, but seeing Harry standing there in his boxer shorts, embarrassed, was too much.

"Don't worry about it, Harry. These things are a pain to put on, especially when you don't know how. But, I can't let you off completely. Those boxer shorts are atrocious and should be burned."

Harry looked down at his shorts which were maroon with gold Gryffindor lions on them.

Then he looked at Draco and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Really? Tell me, Malfoy, how is it that those are any worse than your boxer shorts, which if I recall correctly are green with silver Slytherin snakes on them?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Potter." Draco crossed his arms defiantly.

Harry did the same, then suddenly he grabbed Draco's trousers and gave them a hard tug. Draco tended to wear his pants loose at the waist, a fact that Harry remembered, and Draco found himself with his pants around his ankles.

"That is what I'm talking about, Draco Malfoy," Harry said triumphantly. Draco looked down at his own Slytherin boxers, and then at Harry. Their eyes met, and both Harry and Draco burst out laughing uncontrollably.

"What is going on in there?" Ivy called from outside, which caused Harry and Draco to burst into laughter all over again. It was some time before Draco and Harry settled down enough for Draco to pull up his pants and help Harry into his outfit, which was very handsome, and equally uncomfortable. They then got Harry changed back into more normal clothing, and Harry went to settle the bill.

"That will be two hundred and four galleons," the witch at the register said.

"What! I haven't got that much on me." Harry was shocked at how much this was costing him. He vowed never to let Draco, or Ivy, take him clothes shopping again.

"No problem," replied the witch. "Just sign this slip, and we'll draft directly from your Gringott's account." Harry looked over at Draco who nodded.

"I do it all the time. Don't worry about it." Harry shrugged, and signed the slip of paper. They had arranged for his clothing to be delivered to the school, so Harry, Draco, and Ivy made plans to exit the store separately. Ivy had some surprising news for the two boys.

"I had an owl from father this morning. He wants to meet me here in just a few minutes to talk about something. He didn't say what," she explained in a low voice.

"What?" Draco was in shock, and started looking around frantically as if Lucius were about to materialize out of thin air.

"Yeah, I know, and he asked if you would be here as well. I think he's looking for you. So you and Harry be careful. Oh, I'm late!" Ivy gave her brother a hug; he was almost too shocked to return the gesture. Then, Ivy hugged Harry as well, much to the dark-haired boy's surprise. He felt himself get embarrassed yet again. Ivy turned and winked at him as she exited the store.

"Harry. Harry!" Draco snapped his fingers in front of Harry's face, smirking.

"What? Oh, right." He started to walk out of the store as well, but Draco grabbed him by the arm.

"Maybe we should get under the cloak until the coast is clear," Draco said.

"Good idea." Harry checked to make sure no one was watching, then threw the cloak, which was under his arm, over them. They shuffled toward the door. It was rather hard going, as even though both boys were the same height, they were almost too tall for the cloak to cover their feet if they stood completely upright.

Harry was in front, so he angled toward the Shrieking Shack, figuring that area of Hogsmeade would be more or less deserted. Draco kept stepping on the backs of his feet or breathing down his neck, which was patently annoying.

They arrived at the Shrieking Shack ten uncomfortable minutes later, and sat down under a tree across from the entrance, but slightly out of the main path, and removed the cloak. It was warm for October, and the boys, who were in sweaters, were perspiring. They sat there for some minutes, enjoying the autumn air, and then Harry spoke up, "You know Draco, it's rather weird. This is the spot where I doused you with mud last year. It seems like we should trying to hex each other or something."

Draco nodded, but looked pensive, "Er, Harry…we're friends right?"

Harry was taken aback. He had never considered the question. "Of course we are, Draco. What a silly thing to ask." It was the wrong thing to say, for now Draco looked hurt.

"Silly for you, maybe, but not for someone who's just realized they've never really had any friends."

"You can't be serious, Draco. You have lots of friends. Not just me. Ron, and Hermione, and Professor Dumbledore, and my uncle. They're all your friends, too."

"That's what your uncle told me the other day."

"There you go, then."

"Well, it's just, this is all really new and different for me, and I feel like I'm alone, you know. I lie in bed at night and cry myself to sleep sometimes. I'm nearly fourteen years old, for Merlin's sake. I shouldn't be doing that."

Harry knew just what Draco was talking about, as he had discovered Draco crying when they were at the Weasley's that summer.

"I know you do, Draco," Harry said gently.

"You do?"

Harry nodded, "I guess you don't realize that I've never slept well as a rule. It has something to do with Voldemort and the whole scar thing." Harry waved his hand vaguely in the direction of his forehead. "I used to lay awake nights when we were at the Weasleys and listen to you cry. I wondered why you were crying – what could make someone hurt so badly, yet be unable to express it to someone who wanted to help? I just figured you'd talk about it when you were ready." Harry turned to face his friend, and placed his hand on Draco's shoulder. "You're a good friend, Draco. You've been a good friend to me, and to everyone else. I know that your life is very different than it used to be, but I think you've done amazingly well at adapting, and I'm glad you're my friend now, rather than my enemy."

Draco was amazed at the wisdom and sincerity in Harry's words. He looked at the boy he had wanted to call 'friend' for so long in the eyes – the windows of the soul – and saw that Harry spoke the truth. Draco had never felt happier, or more like he belonged somewhere in his life, and this made him happy. He smiled at his friend. Draco thought, 'He really is my friend', and saw the smile returned, real and genuine, and he felt – happy, truly happy. It was an emotion long-forsaken, and much-welcomed for Draco Malfoy.

"Er…can I ask you something else, Harry?"

Harry smiled, "You just did, you silly prat."

Draco stuck his tongue out at Harry but continued, "How is it…well, what I mean is…er, I don't really know how to say this…"

"Maybe you should just say it." Harry smirked again.

"Grrrr, fine, Potter," Draco replied in mock ire, then got serious again. "How is it that you're able to get on with your life when You-Know-Who and all these other people are trying to kill you? My Dad's after me, and I'm a basket case."

To Draco's surprise, Harry shrugged. "I don't know, Draco. I don't really think about it. I guess, well, I've always figured that I'll die when I'm supposed to, not before and not after. If I'm an old man of ninety who can't feed himself without help, great. If Voldemort nails me next week, well, I won't like it and I'll do everything I can to stop it, but I'm not going to lose sleep over it. If I do that, then I won't ever really get to live, because I'm so afraid of dying."

Draco really couldn't understand how someone so non-chalant and….normal…could be so profound, and was about to say so when Ivy came running up.

"Ivy, what's wrong!" Draco said, grabbing his sister in a hug. She was crying. "It's father," she said between sobs. "He's planning to attack Hogwarts, kidnap you and Harry, and take you both to meet up somewhere with Voldemort. He wanted me to help him plan the attack – to be the 'inside man' he called it.'

Draco and Harry exchanged a glance. Harry picked up the invisibility cloak, and got ready to leave. "What did you tell him, Ivy?" Draco asked gently, still holding his sister.

"I…I…told him I would." She cried again, face buried in her brother's shoulder.

"Good girl. Everything will be OK. Let's get back to the castle, and go talk to the Headmaster. It'll be alright, Ivy. I promise."

Harry threw the cloak over the three of them, which made for even more crowded walking, but instead of heading up to the castle, he headed for the Shrieking Shack.

"Where are we going Harry?" Draco asked tensely.

"There's a secret passage from the Shrieking Shack to the Whomping Willow. It'll be easier and safer to go back that way." And so they proceeded, silently, Ivy's crying reduced to intermittent sniffles. Each was engrossed in thoughts of what the upcoming attack would mean, and how Dumbledore would react. Draco, in the part of himself that was detached from the present, still felt his heart bursting with the joy that he had found a true friend to stand with him in what he knew was the approaching storm.


	13. Trick or Treat

Author's Note: Happy New Year, Everyone! My Apologies for the delay in this installment. The holiday threw me off a bit more than I anticipated. At any rate enjoy the reading. To those of you who are following the story, and especially to those of you who review, or drop me an email with your thoughts or encouragement - thanks! Y'all are many of the reasons I enjoy writing as much as I do.

The disclaimer: Not mine, it's just for fun. This chapter is rated K+ because Draco gets a bit potty-mouthed, some Death Eaters get feisty, and Snape and a bunch of other folks get conked on the head. On with the show…

**Chapter 13 – Trick or Treat**

Harry, Draco, and Ivy were able to remove the Invisibility Cloak once they were inside the secret passage that led back to the Whomping Willow. As they approached the end of the tunnel, Harry became slightly apprehensive, as he wasn't sure if the tree guarding the entrance would try to whomp the three students as they exited the tunnel. Accordingly they emerged from the tunnel cautiously, with their wands out, ready to make a mad dash for safety. They needn't have worried. Whatever magic it was that animated the Whomping Willow also gave it the ability to sense when someone would emerge from the tunnel, and somehow the tree also knew not to knock them silly.

The three students entered the castle, and made their way past the Great Hall where students and teachers alike were beginning to assemble for dinner. Harry thought it a bit surreal that everyone seemed to be going about their business as if everything were normal, and there were no impending attack on the school. They left the noise and ruckus of the Great Hall behind, and shortly Harry, Draco, and Ivy were standing in front of the phoenix statue that led to the Headmaster's Office. Harry spoke the password and they began to ascend the stairs. Ivy, who had never been summoned to the Headmaster's office before, was somewhat apprehensive though she had calmed down since her ordeal with her father. She was somewhat surprised to see how purposefully Harry had moved through the hall to the statue and up the stairs to the Headmaster's Office. She assumed that he must be on fairly familiar terms with the Headmaster.

Having reached the inner door to the Headmaster's office, Harry looked back at his two blond companions, both of whom looked slightly anxious – Ivy more than Draco – and knocked on the door. The door opened soundlessly, and the three students entered the Headmaster's Office to find quite an assembly of Hogwarts teachers. Professor Dumbledore was standing behind his desk with Fawkes the Phoenix perched on his shoulder. Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape were seated to the left, and Harry's uncle was seated to the right. There were three open seats directly in front of the desk.

"Ah, there they are now. Do come in and sit down," Dumbledore said to the three students. "I was just telling my colleagues here that we should be expecting you three to show up at any moment."

Harry, Draco, and Ivy each took a seat, slightly uneasy at the Headmaster's words. Why was he expecting them? The Headmaster continued. "While I do not have the gift of Seeing that Professor Trelawney has, or even that young Mr. Malfoy has, I had a feeling earlier this afternoon that the three of you might be coming to visit me after your excursion to Hogsmeade today. I also had an idea that the particular reason of your not-totally-unexpected visit might also be of interest to your Heads of House, and to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor as well." Dumbledore looked at Professor Marion, then winked at Harry.

Ivy, surprising all of them, spoke next, though in a very small voice, as if she was unsure of what to say. "I received a letter from my father, asking me to meet with him in Hogsmeade today." The three seated professors looked surprised at that bit of information.

Ivy was about to continue, but Professor Dumbledore, who did not seem at all surprised to hear of Lucius' request, interrupted. "Why don't you tell us a bit about why your father wanted to meet with you, Miss Malfoy?"

Ivy swallowed, then nodded. "When Draco and my mother made plans to enlist the help of Harry Potter and Professor Dumbledore, I, um, initially…sided…with my father." Ivy looked morose at that statement. "It was only later that I realized how evil my father was, but I was angry with my elder brother for not including me in his plans. I was really surprised, and hurt when I heard him talking to my mother about what they had in mind when he hadn't mentioned anything to me. We talk about everything!" Draco now looked remorseful as well. "It was only when I got to Hogwarts that Draco and I, er, patched things up. He explained everything to me, and since I had gotten to see how bad my father had become, I realized I had made a mistake. Since hardly anyone knows how close we are, we decided to keep up the illusion that we were on opposite sides once we were at school. My father thinks that I still agree with him, and so he sent me the owl. He plans to attack Hogwarts on Halloween night with a group of Death Eaters, and wanted me to provide him access to the grounds, and the castle itself."

The room fairly exploded at this revelation. Even Harry and Draco hadn't realized that Lucius and the Death Eaters planned to attack on Halloween. That was only two days from now, on Monday night! It was several moments before Dumbledore quieted everyone down and asked, "What is the purpose of this attack, Miss Malfoy?"

Ivy looked even more uncomfortable. "He plans to attack while the Halloween Feast is taking place - to kidnap Harry and Draco. He needs Harry for something he's planning that has to do with the Dragon's Tear, whatever that is." Harry and Draco exchanged a glance at that, as did Professor Marion and Dumbledore. "I'm not sure why he plans to kidnap Draco, but I think it has to do with their…er…disagreement this summer." Draco went even paler than normal; Harry was afraid the other boy was going to faint.

"I see," the headmaster said, betraying no emotion. "And you agreed to help your father?"

Ivy nodded, looking like she wanted to cry all over again. "Then I suppose we had best allow you to keep your word," the Headmaster said with a smile.

"What?" Five other voices yelled at once. Ivy looked at the headmaster in shock.

"Yes, I think Miss Malfoy will in fact allow her father and his associates onto the grounds Halloween night. Let me tell you what else I have in mind…" Dumbledore then outlined his plan for defending the school against Voldemort's minions.

As the meeting ended, Harry had to admit that Dumbledore had really come up with a good plan. Everyone else seemed to think so as well, and they all left the Headmaster's Office still worried about the impending attack, but relieved at having specific tasks to accomplish over the next two days. Harry noted that his uncle lingered behind to talk to the Headmaster – he was the last one to leave the office other than the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor – and so he waved to his uncle, then shut the door behind him as he exited.

Professor Marion, once the door had been shut, looked to Dumbledore with a slightly perplexed expression and said, "I'm guessing that you're wondering about what possible connection there is between Harry and the Dragon's Tear."

Dumbledore nodded, but said nothing. Professor Marion sighed deeply, then reached for the seat behind him and lowered himself into it. "While I've not had time to verify my research, it appears that Voldemort is interested in the Dragon's Tear because its primary power lay in its ability to recombine the spirit and body of a person, if the two have been separated. Obviously, for Voldemort this is one possible solution to his problem of not being able to really assume corporeal form."

"I see. And what of your nephew?"

Professor Marion sighed again. "Harry is not strictly necessary for the procedure to work properly, as far as I know. I'm uncertain exactly what is involved in the recombination, but human blood is a definite requirement. It provides the necessary building blocks for the actual body. My guess is that Voldemort just has a keen sense of the ironic, in that it would be poetic to have the blood of the very person that defeated him in the first place be used to bring him back."

"And young Mr. Malfoy? It is apparent to me, though it may not have been obvious to anyone else, that based on their actions tonight, Draco and your nephew have become close friends. That is a fact that I am very glad, and not terribly surprised, to have learned."

Professor Marion snorted. "I noticed that too, and while I was very skeptical at first, I believe that the two boys have a genuine liking for each other, and they seem to complement each other well. I think that is probably good. Both Harry and Draco need more friends that they can trust."

"Indeed," said Dumbledore.

"My guess is that Draco is only involved because he has chosen to disagree with his father and Voldemort. He is a powerful wizard, but useless to them otherwise, and so my feeling, though it pains me to admit it, is that he will be tortured and eventually killed."

"That, also, was my conclusion. Thus, we must not allow Harry, obviously, or Draco, who in my estimation is equally valuable from a purely human perspective, to be taken prisoner the night after tomorrow."

"Yes, sir. I'm very relieved to hear you say that, about both boys," Professor Marion agreed.

"Tell me, Brandon. What happens if Voldemort doesn't succeed on Halloween? And what about the Dragon's Tear? How necessary is it to Voldemort's plans?"

The young professor thought for a moment. "The Dragon's Tear will be necessary for Voldemort to complete the recombination spell. However, I do not think he knows its exact location. Thus, I think that we have a little time before we have to worry about how to deal with the artifact."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore seemed non-committal. "I'm not sure what else we could do about it, so we'll leave that for the time being. Much will have to be discussed after the attack on Halloween, assuming it happens. I do not relish having to bring the Ministry of Magic into the midst of all this, but I suppose I should notify them."

"Yes sir. They should probably be informed."

"Very well," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "We will talk more about this later. You are clear on your instructions for Halloween night?"

"Yes sir."

"Very well then. Off you go, professor. Enjoy your evening." The young professor nodded to the Headmaster, and then stood and exited. The headmaster gathered his thoughts for a moment, then turned to the fire, threw a bit of powder in it from an urn on the mantle and spoke "Cornelius Fudge, Ministry of Magic" quite clearly as he peered into the flames.

* * *

Harry and Draco, though they were the primary targets of the raid, would remain with the rest of the student body. It had been agreed that they should be seen acting normally to allay suspicion among any of Lucius' spies within the school. Neither Harry nor Draco were particularly excited about having to hide out during the attack; they spent quite a lot of time talking about how they might possibly avoid missing out on the battle. It wasn't that either of them were so naïve as to think that an attack on Hogwarts would be "fun" or "exciting"; they both knew that they were the primary targets of the raid, and thus didn't want to depend on others, even well-trained professors, to defend them. They wanted to defend themselves. 

"We're both powerful wizards, for Merlin's sake. Why won't they let us be a part of this?" Harry said grumpily one evening as the Golden Quartet was doing homework. After the Hogsmeade visit, they had taken to meeting in Professor Marion's living room; a development to which the professor seemed quite amenable. The professor had literally reconfigured the room magically so that the fireplace and sitting area were now in one corner of the large room, and a large wooden table with six chairs stood in the opposite corner. He had also added a couch and love seat that were excellent for napping. This change of venue served more than one purpose. It allowed the Golden Quartet the opportunity to interact with the professor, a fact that Harry appreciated greatly. It also gave them the chance to perhaps sneak looks at information on the Dragon's Tear, such as where it was located and it allowed them to talk freely about the impending attack, as Harry and Draco had of course told Ron and Hermione everything.

"I agree. It's bloody ridiculous." Draco was equally grumpy.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Ron had found a hidden stash of lemon drops – he suspected it was one of the many that the Headmaster supposedly kept tucked away around the castle – and he was more interested, at least at the moment, in the lemon drops than either a grumpy Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, or the upcoming Death Eater attack.

Harry's uncle apparently heard his nephew and Draco complaining, for he entered the room looking somewhat stern, carrying the ever-present cup of coffee. Hermione caught his eye with a look that said, "Please help me, they're being unreasonable boys again."

"Now listen here, you two," the professor said, gesturing at Harry and Draco with his coffee cup. He came dangerously close to sloshing some of the precious liquid on the floor. "You both know full well that none of the students are taking part in the defense of the school. You'll all be down in the dungeons; where it's safe. The Ministry is sending a team of Aurors to help the teachers defend against the attack, though according to Dumbledore, it took an act of Congress to convince Cornelius Fudge that there were enough Death Eaters about to mount an attack on a broom closet, much less on the school."

At first, the four more-or-less friends had been somewhat taken aback to hear Harry's uncle talk about things related to the school and his work in such a lassez-faire manner, but they realized that he wasn't being disrespectful, it was another one of those queer habits he'd picked up while in America. Now they just found it amusing. Harry and Draco of course knew about Dumbledore's plan, but they didn't have to like it, so they just grumbled even more. Professor Marion rolled his eyes at the two stubborn boys and went back into his study to grade some generally atrocious essays by his second-year class on "Dark Magic as a Defense Against Dark Magic."

Over the course of the next twenty-four hours, the student body at large remained blissfully unaware of the state of things at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. For the Golden Quartet, however, the tension seemed to mount ever higher until there was almost a constant buzzing, as if from a hive of bees that seemed to simmer and bubble just below the level of awareness.

Halloween morning dawned bright, clear, and cold. There was a light frost on the grounds outside the castle, and when Harry put his hand on the window beside his four-poster bed, the glass around it fogged. He lay in bed for a moment longer, staring at the ceiling. He wondered what the day would bring, when exactly the attack would come, and whether the plan that he and Draco had come up with to have at least a small part in the battle would work.

Sighing, he climbed out of bed, got ready for the day, and went down to breakfast with Ron and Hermione. They all sat in their usual spots at the long Gryffindor table, noting that Draco was still sitting by himself at the Slytherin table, looking miserable and lonely, as he did every morning. "We really should do something about that, you know." Harry said casually. Hermione frowned as if contemplating some particularly confusing cluster of ancient runes. Ron just shrugged and helped himself to another bowl of porridge.

The atmosphere in the Great Hall was that of a normal day. Students were chatting unconcernedly amongst themselves. When Harry glanced up at the teachers' table a very different sight greeted him. Everyone seated at that table had grim expressions, even Harry's uncle, though in his case, it was most likely because he had not made it through his second cup of coffee. 'It's really amazing how much he and Draco are alike in the mornings'. Harry snorted out loud, which caused Ron and Hermione to look at him a bit oddly. He just smiled down at his own bowl of porridge, then quickly frowned when he considered how worried all of the teachers looked. Even Hagrid seemed preoccupied.

Classes that day were rather pointless. It was obvious, even to those students who didn't know what was going on, that the teachers minds were clearly elsewhere. Snape even forgot to make Potions the closest thing to hell on earth for those students who were not in his house. While the majority of the students chalked this up to the fact that even teachers could be preoccupied with a Halloween celebration, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco and Ivy grew more and more apprehensive with each passing minute, as did the adults at the school.

Harry also wondered how Dumbledore proposed to explain the presence of the Aurors, when and if they arrived, and how he planned to get the students into the dungeons slightly before, or at the very least when the attack began.

"I hadn't thought about that, mate," Ron said casually as they walked to lunch from Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid had been so preoccupied during the class that he kept losing his place in the lecture even more than usual. The gangletoppers were fidgety at Hagrid's inattention, and thus the ground around the gamekeeper's hut was beginning to look like a minefield. Hagrid seemed oblivious to this, as he kept glancing nervously across the grounds to the school entrance with a worried expression on his face every few minutes.

Harry motioned as they entered the Great Hall once more. "It looks like we're about to find out. Look up at the head table." The headmaster was talking with a group of five aurors at the foot of the table. Extra chairs had been placed on the platform so that the aurors would have a place to eat their lunch.

When all the students had gathered and were ready to eat, Dumbledore stood up and said in a magically magnified voice, "Before we resign ourselves to the destruction of another fine effort by our most excellent kitchen staff, I have an announcement. You may have noticed the presence of several aurors here today." The students all murmured to each other. Aurors were not a common presence on the Hogwarts grounds at all. "They are here to conduct a routine inspection of the wards protecting this castle. This inspection normally would have been completed during the summer, but due to unforeseen circumstances, this did not occur. They will be with us until tomorrow, and though they assure me their presence will not interfere with our celebrations this evening, I beg you to treat them as the honored and welcome guests they are. Now…dig in!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all traded knowing glances. It was a pretty neat cover for having the aurors there, Harry thought. Most of them had in fact spent the summer looking for Harry's Godfather, Sirius Black, and it also provided an excuse for the wards to be "down" which would also allow the Death Eaters onto the school grounds. Harry risked a look over at Draco, who looked up at the same time. They nodded almost imperceptibly to each other. The corner of Draco's mouth twitched up in the slightest hint of a smirk, as if Harry had made some private inside joke, and the two boys returned to their lunch. The plan was in motion.

The afternoon seemed to drag on forever for The Golden Quartet and Ivy, and as the feast approached, they each got more and more nervous. Harry thought that waiting for something to happen was just as likely to kill him as Voldemort. Fortunately, their own apprehension, and that of the teachers, was largely masked by the general level of excitement for the Halloween feast. Eventually, it was time to go down to the feast, so once again Harry and Ron met Hermione in the Gryffindor Common Room, and they descended the stairs with great apprehension.

The feast itself went off without a hitch. Harry hardly ate anything – he was too nervous about what would happen in the next few hours if all went to plan, or even worse, if it didn't. As he thought about it he realized he wasn't really worried about himself. He had faced Voldemort too many times already, and knew that somehow he would be able to handle whatever got thrown his way. No, Harry was worried about what might happen to other students at the school, the teachers who got in the way of the Death Eaters, especially his uncle.

Harry was even surprised to realize that he was worried about Ivy and Draco, though they had become good friends since the beginning of the year, and Draco and Ivy's change of heart. He wasn't really sure he could call Ivy a good friend. He hardly ever spoke to her. He always seemed to get tongue-tied and embarrassed whenever she was around, but they were friendly to each other at least. At any rate, Harry realized that of anyone, Draco and Ivy were going to be under the most stress and in the greatest amount of danger this evening.

Harry had just finished moving his food around on his plate, and he glanced at Draco, who seemed outwardly cool, though Harry had learned the other boy's mannerisms enough to realize that he was quite nervous as well. Turning his head to the other end of the Slytherin table, Harry looked at Ivy, who looked as if all the blood had been drained out of her body, she was so pale. She was looking at Dumbledore, who nodded back at her.

Ivy took a deep breath, and quietly slipped away from the table, and out one of the side doors of the Great Hall. Lucius wanted to stage his attack while everyone was in the Great Hall, the large number of students and great amount of confusion would allow the Death Eaters to rush in and be gone with Harry and Draco before anyone else realized what was happening. Ivy was making her way to the main entrance to the Hogwarts grounds. The wards and protection set about the school would prevent anyone with explicitly evil intent from entering, unless they were invited. That was why Lucius needed Ivy to allow him access to the school. Dumbledore, Harry noticed, took a quick look at the rest of the teachers at the head table - they also looked like they had not been hungry - and Harry said quietly to Ron and Hermione, "Get ready."

Suddenly, the lights in the Great Hall went out. A couple of the younger students screamed, and the noise level in the room rose significantly as the students tried to figure out what was happening. The confusion continued for some moments when a voice boomed out of the dark, "Please stay calm." It was Dumbledore. "I have just spoken with our guests the aurors, who assure me that this is part of their testing of the castle wards. Apparently, they inadvertently tripped a spell I had neglected to make them aware of, which has caused a chain reaction in several other spells used as part of the normal operations of the school. Prefects will please lead their houses to the dungeons, where we have made arrangements for just such a contingency. Teachers will follow me. The aurors have requested our assistance in correcting the haywire spells."

Everyone in the Great Hall groaned. "At least the feast was mostly over with," Neville Longbottom said to Seamus Finnegan, who grabbed one more piece of fudge before following the Gryffindor prefects down toward the dungeons. Most of the dungeons were either taken up with housing for the Slytherins, or as classroom space, but there was one very large gallery almost directly underneath the Great Hall and of similar size where, judging by the same purple sleeping bags Harry remembered from his second year, it appeared the students were going to be spending the rest of the evening and the night.

As the students were making their way down to the dungeons and the teachers were taking up their positions in various parts of the castle, a very scared Ivy Malfoy was making her way across the grounds to meet her father. At Dumbledore's signal she had left the Great Hall to meet her father. It was a bit of a walk, and unfortunately it left Ivy time to think.

The night was crisp; a heavy dew was already settling on the ground. It was dark and cloudy with no moon, and the gloom of her surroundings mirrored how Ivy felt as she crossed the lawn next to the lake. She was to meet her father at the edge of the Forbidden Forest where it came closest to the road into Hogsmeade village. This marked the boundary of the Hogwarts grounds, and it was from that point that Lucius intended to stage his attack. His plan was simple. Once on the grounds, the Death Eaters, of which there were about ten, would split into two groups. Lucius would take the first group and go through one of the side entrances and into the Great Hall. The students should still have be there for the feast, so it would be a fairly straightforward task, in theory, to grab Harry Potter and the prodigal Draco and make a hasty exit. The second group of Death Eaters, which was coincidentally led by Pansy Parkinson's father, would also end up in the Great Hall, but both their route and their objective were significantly different. Once the two disparate groups had accomplished their missions, they were to retreat post-haste to the edge of the grounds, and from there apparate to a little-known spot where Voldemort and Wormtail awaited.

As she walked – growing ever colder from both the autumn air and the fear in her heart – Ivy's mind was racing. She thought about many things, but the two that she thought about most were Harry Potter and her brother, Draco. It was clear to Ivy that Harry Potter liked her, even if he didn't realize it himself. Every time she was around him, Harry seemed to completely lose his composure, a fact that Ivy thought made the Gryffindor boy even more adorable. She had talked about it a bit with Draco, and much to her surprise, he had approved. That was a sign of how close Draco and Harry had become. Normally, Draco became downright evil when Ivy mentioned boys. He was really very protective of her, and Ivy knew that Draco was probably beside himself with worry for her right now. Though she hadn't understood it at first, she was now proud of her brother for standing up to their father. She alone knew how much Draco had wanted to be Harry Potter's friend, how ruthless Lucius was when Draco came home from school with grades not quite as good as those of Hermione Granger, and how deep down Draco really wanted to be a good, kind person. She was proud of him for having the guts to do something with his life other than follow the Dark Lord, and she was very happy that Draco had been able to make new friends who were willing to forgive old wrongs.

Ivy had been so lost in her thoughts she hadn't even noticed that she was rapidly approaching the rendezvous. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself and headed for the edge of the Forbidden Forest. No sooner had she reached the eaves of the forest when ten shadowy figures emerged from the darkness. Ivy stopped short, her breath caught. The figure nearest her stepped forward, and reached up to lower the hood that concealed its face.

"Hello, Ivy." It was Lucius Malfoy. He was calm as ever, though his sea-gray eyes flashed, and his cheeks were flushed slightly with excitement.

Ivy met her father's gaze, and then as an added touch, smirked. "Hello, father. Fancy meeting you here. Won't you and your friends come in for a visit?" She sounded much more confident than she felt.

"How very kind of you, Ivy." Lucius smiled at his daughter, then turned and nodded to the other Death Eaters, and they headed toward the castle, leaving Ivy alone. She wasn't entirely sure what to do now, but relief flooded her. She decided to wait until her father and the other Death Eaters had disappeared before returning to the castle.

* * *

Ivy was right about Draco; he was worried sick. As the teachers had stationed themselves around the castle and the students settled into the gallery in the dungeon, Draco made his way over to where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting in a corner. "Do you think she's OK?" He asked as he sat down with them. A few students looked at him oddly. Draco had been seen with the Golden Trio before, but there had ostensibly been a reason for it. They didn't quite see why the Crown Prince of Slytherin House would willingly consort with Gryffindors, especially not the three Gryffindors in question. 

"Shhh!" Hermione admonished.

"Er…sorry, I'm just really worried, you know?" Harry still thought it slightly strange to see Draco Malfoy looking worried.

"I think we're all a little tense," Harry said, casting a glance at Hermione, who had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed at jumping all over Draco. He pulled out his pocketwatch and said "Ivy Malfoy" quietly. The watch returned 'walking'. "There, Draco, she's walking, so she must be alright."

Draco looked only slightly relieved. "Alright. Are you ready?"

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"I haven't had the time to fill them in." Harry told Ron and Hermione of his and Draco's plan to take part in the battle.

Hermione protested immediately, "But Harry, you can't. We're all supposed to stay here, and besides, you're the one they're after. You can't go anywhere!"

Harry hadn't really expected Hermione not to put up resistance, and he stood his ground. "Hermione, I don't care. I'm not going to sit on my arse while the professors – my uncle! – is up there fighting off Death Eaters to save it. You can either come with us, or stay here, but you will not stop me."

Hermione growled in frustration, but seeing Harry's eyes flashing dangerously she said, "I'll stay." She did not look happy. Harry looked at Ron.

"I'm in."

"Great! You can go with Draco to go look for Ivy. I'm going to find my uncle. I think he's supposed to be guarding the entrance to the Great Hall."

Just then, a loud boom and crash came from overhead and the walls and floor of the gallery seemed to shake slightly. The three boys looked at each other. Harry pulled out his invisibility cloak, threw it over the three of them, and they headed toward the exit while keeping an eye on the prefects and Head Boy and Girl. It was very crowded with the three of them under the cloak, and it made it hard to move quietly toward the exit.

Once they were out of the underground gallery, they were surprised to see Professor Dumbledore himself guarding the entrance. Harry gulped. He had a feeling that the headmaster was able to see through the invisibility cloak. Luck was with the three boys, as Professor Dumbledore was faced away from them, talking with Professor McGonagall, who was concerned about leaving Harry's uncle guarding one of the side entrances to the Great Hall.

"Are you sure he'll be able to handle it, Albus?" she asked worriedly.

"Yes, Minerva, I have every confidence in Brandon's ability. He was an auror for several years you know."

Professor McGonagall snorted. She was not convinced that American aurors were quite up to snuff, but she let it pass. "Very well. I suppose as long as Professor Snape is guarding the main entrance to the Great Hall and Hagrid the other side entrance, it should be OK. I will return to the grounds. She then quickly transformed into a grey tabby cat and quickly slinked up the stairs to the main floor of the castle. She planned to roam around the grounds and keep an eye on things out there.

Harry had been able to overhear the conversation and he was slightly perturbed at Professor McGonagall for thinking his uncle wouldn't be able to defend his post. Once the three boys had made it up the stairs, Harry removed the cloak. "I'm going to go find my uncle," he said.

"I bet my sister is still out on the grounds. Come on, Weasley, let's go." Ron looked at Harry. He was less than thrilled about having to tag along with Draco, but he shrugged and followed the blond boy toward the main entrance of the castle. Harry set off in the other direction.

* * *

The loud boom and subsequent crash that had been heard in the underground gallery was the second group of Death Eaters breaking down the main doors of the castle, which had been barred. Lucius and his contingent had managed to sneak their way into the castle by one of the secret passages. Ron and Draco, both slightly peeved at having to tolerate each other, rounded the corner in front of the Great Hall just in time to see Mr. Parkinson confronting Severus Snape, who was standing his ground bravely. "This way," Draco hissed. He grabbed Ron by the arm and they backtracked, leaving the castle by yet another route. 

Once they were out in the night air, they paused for a minute to take stock of their surroundings. Draco felt bad about not staying to help Professor Snape, but he figured the Potions Master had a backup plan for summoning help if he needed it. 'I need to find Ivy' he thought. "We'll have to search the grounds for her," he said out loud to Ron.

"Should we split up?" Ron asked. "It would go more quickly."

Draco thought for a moment. "No, I think that would be a bad idea. We probably don't want to be separated, and besides I'm enjoying your company so much." Draco couldn't resist a bit of sarcasm.

Ron glared at the blond boy, "Fine. Let's get going then." They set off and began to work their way toward the perimeter of the grounds to search for Ivy.

Some time later, they were wandering around Hagrid's hut when Ron stopped short. Draco, who wasn't really watching where he was walking almost barreled into the red-headed boy.

"Bloody hell!"

"Shhh! I think that's McGonagall up ahead, and we don't want her to see us." Sure enough a cat was seated on a stump just outside Hagrid's hut. "Let's go around this way." They started back around the other side of the hut when the cat turned around and stared at them. They froze. Then Ron took a closer look at the cat, and visibly relaxed. "It's just Professor Marion's cat Dexter. I guess he's just keeping an eye out like everyone else. The two boys continued on. Dexter watched them as they continued to search the edge of the forest.

* * *

Back in the castle, Harry had been making his way as stealthily as possible toward where his uncle should be stationed. As he neared the Great Hall, he could hear some noises coming from the direction of the main entrance, and he wondered what was happening there. Harry was approaching the side entrance of the Great Hall that the teachers normally used. He was in a relatively small, dark corridor, and as he came to the end of the tunnel-like passageway, he could see the silhouette of his uncle standing near the entrance to the Great Hall. He smiled slightly, and was about to call out to his uncle when he noticed a group of hooded figures on the other side of the foyer. The figure closest to Harry's uncle was raising his wand to point it at the Professor. Before he had time to think, Harry yelled, "Uncle look out!" and then he pulled his own wand out and yelled, "Expelliarmus!" 

The spell missed, and both the Death Eater - which turned out to be Lucius Malfoy – and the professor turned and looked at Harry.

"Harry what are you doing out here! You should be in the…er, you should be somewhere else." Professor Marion looked shocked.

Harry had joined his uncle in the center of the foyer, blocking the entrance to the Great Hall, and was about to respond to his uncle's query when an oily drawl cut him short.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the Boy-Who-Lived. Just who I was looking for. And did mine ears deceive me, or did I hear you refer to this poor excuse for a professor as your _uncle? _That's very interesting. Of course, now I remember everything."

Both Harry and Professor Marion went ghostly white when they realized Harry had slipped. Lucius continued on, "Yes, I do remember. James Potter had a younger brother, and we didn't quite take care of you those many years ago, did we? In fact, we forgot all about you, didn't we? That was a particularly neat trick. No doubt the work of that Muggle-loving fool Albus Dumbledore."

Again, both Harry and the young professor bristled, and looked at Lucius Malfoy with nothing but pure hatred, but said nothing.

"What a lovely family reunion you two must have had - the only survivor of the Potter clan, and his dead brother's whelp of a boy. I wonder, boy, has your uncle seen fit to tell you _all_ of his past, or has he only hit the highlights?" The look on Harry's face gave Lucius all the answer he needed.

"You bastard." Professor Marion had finally found his voice.

"Language, Potter," Lucius said to Professor Marion with a sneer. "If I were you, boy, I would ask my dear beloved uncle why it is that my parents are dead."

"What are you talking about?" Harry was confused. "Voldemort killed them."

"So he did. Perhaps I was wrong. Your uncle, clearly, can shed no further light on the situation. Forget I even mentioned it," Lucius said with an evil smile.

"I'll kill you." Professor Marion snarled, his wand pointed at Lucius.

"Tsk, tsk. Such behavior from a Hogwarts professor." Lucius drew his own wand. The other Death Eaters did the same. Harry and his uncle had to admit, the odds did not look good. Suddenly Lucius uttered a word Harry didn't recognize and a bolt of yellow light shot out of his wand at Harry. The professor deflected the spell and the fight began in earnest. Harry and his uncle stood back to back deflecting spells, throwing the odd one back here and there, but having trouble even holding their own. The only thing that saved them was the fact that they were able to use spell-less magic. Even so, it was all they could do to dodge spells from five Death Eaters that had them surrounded.

"Harry, you OK?" Professor Marion grunted through clenched teeth after several minutes. He and Harry had been able to knock out one Death Eater each, evening up the odds slightly. Still, they were both tiring and knew they couldn't last much longer without additional help.

"Yes uncle." That was all they had time for, as Lucius and the two other remaining Death Eaters attacked again in earnest.

Several minutes later it was apparent that help was not going to come. "Enough of this," Professor Marion said in frustration, and then suddenly, he disappeared. In his place was a large mountain lion. The mountain lion let out a roar and pounced on Lucius, claws extended. Lucius was so surprised that he wasn't able to retaliate. This element of surprise was all Harry needed to cast a couple of quick spells and the remaining Death Eaters went down, unconscious. Realizing that things were not going to go as planned, Lucius turned and ran, his left arm hanging limp and bleeding.

The mountain lion turned and walked back over to Harry, then began to lick its paws and fur. Harry smiled at the mountain lion as it transformed back into his uncle a moment later. "Wow. I didn't know you were an animagus!"

The professor looked slightly embarrassed. "Oh, well, you know…when your older brother and his three best friends are all secretly learning to be animagi and you hang out with them, it's hard not to pick up a few things. Besides, even though it's not part of our genetic heritage, I don't know of a single Potter that wasn't some kind of animagus. I'm sure you'll figure it out one day too."

Harry said nothing. He was thinking about what Lucius said about his uncle. He wanted to ask the professor, but thought better of it. His uncle's expression had gone from a smile to a perplexed frown very quickly.

"Now wait just a cotton-picking minute. You, young man, should not have been out of the dungeons." The professor looked very stern, and sure enough he grabbed Harry by the ear and began to walk him back down to the gallery.

"Ow. Let go. That hurts!" Harry complained loudly, swatting at his uncle.

"Not until you're back where you're supposed to be. I'll come back later and clean up this mess." He waved vaguely at the unconscious figures on the floor. "I can't believe you snuck out like that. What in the bloody hell do you think you're doing out here? You're one of the people they were after. It's a good thing I'm not officially your guardian or your head of house. You'd be in so much hot water, you'd think you were being boiled alive. As it is, I'm going to speak to Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall." Harry's uncle was not happy at all, and Harry knew he would probably get a detention from McGonagall when everything was back to normal. Harry was not happy at all either.

* * *

Severus Snape was not having a good time. He had been less than thrilled that he was to guard the main entrance to the Great Hall. It wasn't that he didn't want to, it was simply that with his status as a traitor known to Voldemort and the rest of the Death Eaters, he wondered how intelligent it was to have him standing guard duty at the most likely point of attack, by himself. Thus, he was not especially surprised, but he was slightly afraid when Parkinson and four other Death Eaters showed up. 

"Well, well, well, look at this, chaps. If it isn't our old friend Severus Snape." The Death Eater had said with no hint of warmth in his voice as he swaggered up to the Potions Master.

"Parkinson," Snape responded in his usual greasy voice.

"You're just the traitor we were looking for."

Snape sneered, "I'm so glad I could be accommodating. Why don't the five of you clear off before you hurt yourselves, or worse, I hurt you. I'd hate to have to send you back to that maniac you claim as your leader on stretchers."

The Death Eaters moved closer to Snape, their wands out. The Potions Master held his ground but realized that he might have made a tactical error in insulting the Death Eaters. About this time he happened to see, out of the corner of his eye, what looked suspiciously like the head of Draco Malfoy appear around the corner, but he didn't have time to think about it, as Parkinson was talking to him again. Surprisingly, the Death Eater had lowered his wand, and seemed almost congenial.

"Well now, Severus, you wouldn't want to do that, now would you? I'd hate for you to get your dander up before you pay the Dark Lord a visit." Parkinson smiled evilly. Snape never saw the curse from another Death Eater that knocked him out cold.

One of the other Death Eaters levitated the unconscious Potions Master, and Mr. Parkinson flung open the doors to the Great Hall. Inside they found….nothing! The Great Hall was deserted, though somehow magic had been used to make the hall sound like it was full of people enjoying a feast.

"It's a trick!" Mr. Parkinson yelled. "They're not in the Great Hall!" He slammed the doors shut again in frustration, and the Death Eaters continued their search. They had found Snape so quickly they decided to see if they could find Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy themselves.

They moved cautiously through the castle working their way ever closer to the gallery in the dungeons, though they had no idea that was where the students were being kept. They thought it odd that they had not seen the Headmaster, but they assumed that when they found him they would also find the students. They saw several Aurors from the Ministry as well as several professors on the prowl, but never any students. Eventually, the Death Eaters spotted Dumbledore standing alertly at the entrance to the gallery. "Ah ha!" Mr. Parkinson said in triumph. He turned to the Death Eater guarding Snape. "Stay here, and keep watch."

The remaining Death Eaters now moved forward openly and with purpose. There were four of them after all, and only one Headmaster, and he was old. Just as Mr. Parkinson was about to unleash a curse at the Headmaster, a booming voice seemed to come from all around them. "Leave now, and you will be spared! Heed not my words, and you will leave this castle wrapped in a shroud of death."

The Death Eaters halted, looking around wildly, afraid. "Where did that come from?" someone said. They continued on more slowly. The voice shook them again. "You have been warned," it intoned ominously. And suddenly four balls of white light came shooting out of nowhere toward the now very fearful Death Eaters. Seeing the pulsing balls of pure energy flying at them was too much. This particular group of Death Eaters was known for its cruelty and not its bravery. Thus, they fled. "Run!" cried Mr. Parkinson, and he led the retreat back up the stairs and out toward the Forbidden Forest to regroup. As they fled at full speed, Albus Dumbledore, who up to this point had seemed unaware of the threat, listened to the Death Eaters running, and smiled slightly to himself.

* * *

It was quite a long time later, after searching nearly all the grounds of the castle that Draco and Ron finally happened upon Ivy, who was sitting on a rock at the edge of the Forbidden Forest trying to keep warm. She stood up as they approached, hugging herself and stamping her feet on the ground. "What's happening?" she asked without preamble as Draco grabbed her in a hug. Ron looked on, astonished that Malfoys could show emotions other than anger or hatred. 

"You're freezing!" Draco said by way of response. He started rubbing his sister's arms and shoulders to generate some heat. "I'm not sure what's going on. Harry went off to find his uncle and we came looking for you. You're OK? Nothing happened?"

Ivy shook her head. "Everything's fine. Father showed up with the rest of his gang, and I put on a good show for them. I figured I should stay here until they got back. I'm not sure why, though." She looked over Draco's shoulder for a moment then continued. "Bloody hell, here comes father, alone. You two better get out of here fast!" Out loud she yelled, "Draco Lucius Malfoy, you're a blood traitor. Consorting with Harry Potter, that muggle-loving fool Dumbledore, and this sorry excuse for a wizard Weasel. How dare you come out here and try to convince me to give up everything I've ever known and loved!"

Draco caught on quickly. Ron just looked like the proverbial deer in the headlights. "Fine, sister dear," Draco's voice dripped with sarcasm. "You'll bloody well catch it when Dumbledore finds out you let a bunch of Death Eaters onto the school grounds, and if you insist on throwing your life away like our idiot of a father it's not my problem. Come on Weasley, let's go." The two boys left a very shocked and angry looking Ivy and ran straight the Forbidden Forest.

A couple of minutes later, Lucius finally arrived at where Ivy was once again seated. His arm had stopped bleeding, and he did not looked pleased. "Where is Draco?" he asked in a voice as cold as steel.

Ivy looked up at her father, afraid. "I…I don't know. He showed up and we got into a fight, then he ran off into the forest."

Lucius looked for a minute at the forest. "Very well. I must go and report to the Dark Lord. He will not be pleased. Harry Potter was able to elude me, but I do have some information for the Dark Lord that I think he will find most interesting." Lucius didn't add that the information might well be the only thing saving Lucius from being killed for failing so miserably. "When the others return, you will inform them of where I've gone and send them after me."

Ivy nodded meekly, and Lucius walked past the boundary of the grounds and apparated to where Voldemort and Wormtail waited.

In the meantime, Draco and Ron had made their way through the forest, and were about to cross the grounds back to the castle when they heard an oily voice. "Well, well. Look what we have here. If it isn't the prodigal son and the Boy-Who-Lived's trusty sidekick." The two boys quickly found themselves surrounded by the other contingent of Death Eaters and a floating unconscious Severus Snape. "What do you say we add young Draco here to our growing collection of unconscious followers? I think both Lucius and the Dark Lord will be most pleased to see him."

The other Death Eaters chuckled at this thought, and they drew their wands and advanced, tightening the circle around the two boys. Suddenly, Ron stepped in front of Draco and yelled, "If you're going to take him, you'll have to kill me first!" The Death Eaters merely laughed again.

"As you wish." Pansy Parkinson's father raised his wand to cast the killing curse, but Ron bellowed with rage and tackled the Death Eater before he could cast the spell. This gave Draco the opening he needed and he was able to stun another Death Eater. The rest of the group were too stunned to react with any kind of alacrity, plus they had Snape to deal with – the Death Eater Draco had stunned was maintaining the levitation spell, which had ceased when the Death Eater was knocked unconscious. In the melee, the two boys took off running faster than they thought possible, covering the distance to the castle in record time. They burst in and shut the doors behind them, panting for breath. The Death Eaters, seeing their easy targets had vanished, decided it would be best to get on with things rather than risk approaching the castle again. They picked up their wounded and made their way back to the rendezvous.

Ron and Draco made their way back to the underground gallery. Draco had been surprised at Ron's defense of him in the Forbidden Forest, and so he said uncomfortably, "Er….thanks for sticking up for me, Weasley."

The red-headed boy blushed. "No problem, Malfoy."

They entered the gallery to find all of the students milling around. All of the aurors were present as were the Headmaster and Professor Marion both looking very stern. They were standing over Harry, who had his arms crossed and was doing an amazing impression of Snape. "Uh oh," Ron and Draco both said. Professor Marion saw them, and motioned them over, looking even more stern. They slowly made their way over to the group of people, and before anyone could speak, Ron blurted out, "They've got Snape…er, Professor Snape. We ran into a group of Death Eaters. They had Snape with them. He was unconscious."

Dumbledore looked surprised at this revelation, but nodded gravely. At that point Ivy slipped into the gallery nearly unnoticed. Draco did happen to see her, and he winked at her. Ivy smiled back, but true to form, went over to where several Slytherin third years were talking quietly.

Harry still looked quite sour, and he opened his mouth to say something, but Professor McGonagall appeared at that moment. "All of the students are accounted for Headmaster."

"Very good, Professor McGonagall. Fawkes has just informed me that the wards are back up and operating normally. Unfortunately the Death Eaters have managed to abduct Severus, and we must see about retrieving him. Please escort Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Malfoy to my office. We have matters of some importance to discuss."

Professor McGonagall's lips went very thin and white. She was not pleased.

"I'll go with you, Professor." Professor Marion added tersely.

The tension in the group was thick enough to cut with a knife. Harry stood up and started walking toward the headmaster's office without a word. Draco and Ron sighed and turned to follow. They all knew very well they were in the worst trouble they had ever been.


	14. You What?

**Author's Note: Greetings, Everyone. Just a couple of quick thoughts: Thanks to everyone who reads and especially reviews. I've gotten good feedback thus far and I genuinely appreciate it. Special thanks also go to Lazteuq for suggesting that I should spice up the story with some interaction from some of the more 'minor' characters and for suggesting that maybe Harry was really being too nice to Draco. I've tried to make adjustments accordingly.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, just for fun. This is Rated 'K+'. No Death Eaters were harmed in the creation of this chapter – that was last chapter. Harry and Draco are going to get hairballs, though. How's that for a teaser? Enjoy…**

**Chapter 14 – You What?**

Harry, Ron, and Draco were silent on the trip to the Headmaster's Office. Not only would it have been impossible to compare stories with McGonagall and Marion marching them firmly along, they weren't even sure what they possibly could have come up with that would have seemed even remotely plausible. It struck Harry that they were walking rather quickly toward the Headmaster's Office, but every time he tried to slacken his pace, his uncle's very firm grip on his shoulder nudged him forward. This served only to make Harry even more put out with his uncle.

Harry risked a glance back at the older Potter, and then turned back around quickly. His uncle was glowering at anything and everything, and Harry was surprised that whatever got in Professor Marion's line of sight wasn't turning to stone on the spot. They arrived at the Headmaster's Office in short order, and were seated in three very uncomfortable chairs that Professor McGonagall conjured. Then, without a word, the adults left the three boys to their own devices.

The door to the office had no sooner clicked shut when Draco exploded. "Potter! This is all your fault! I can't believe I let you talk me into this!"

"You what!" Harry all-but-yelled back.

"You're not deaf, Potter. You heard me," Draco sniffed, crossing his arms and looking around with a haughty expression.

"My fault! Listen here, Malfoy. You were the one that kept going on about your bloody sister!" It was the wrong thing to say.

"I'm warning you, Potter. You leave my sister out of this, or I'll hex you into the middle of next week." Draco glared at Harry with gritted teeth, fishing for his wand.

Harry wouldn't leave it alone. Ron looked on, angry as well, but equally horrified as Harry got out of his seat and stalked over to Draco, who was now also standing. Harry got so close to the other boy's face that their noses were less than an inch apart. Both boys were tall for their age, though neither was as tall as Ron. Draco was slightly taller than Harry, but now that Harry had the benefit of good nutrition for several weeks, Harry's slightly sturdier build was again evident; he was beginning to lose the unhealthy scrawniess that seemed to haunt him every summer. "And what if I don't want to leave your sister out of it, Malfoy? You've been whining about her from the minute you sent that letter. 'Ivy this' and 'my poor sister' and 'I'm so worried about her.' I didn't mind it at first. In fact, I overlooked all your other obnoxious habits too– Merlin knows you've got enough of them – and all the insults about my friends because I figured you were having a hard time and all that. I've had enough though, and you know, you're basically just a spoiled whiny prat!" Harry punctuated the last three words by poking Draco in the chest.

Draco was so angry at Harry he thought he could have pissed fire, but he was also more than a little hurt. The two boys just continued to stare each other down, growling slightly, with Ron looking on wide-eyed from one boy to the other. Suddenly, the door of the office opened, and Dumbledore entered, a somber expression on his face. He was followed by Professor McGonagall and Professor Marion wearing equally somber expressions. Harry, seeing the adults re-enter, gave Draco one final glare, and then returned to his seat. Draco met Harry's gaze levelly, then sat down as well. Ron breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed back into his chair.

The two professors took seats behind the three boys, and the headmaster walked around his desk and sat down without saying a word. He looked at each of the three boys, who were shifting uncomfortably in their seats – even Draco - for several moments.

"Please explain to me why you have done this," the headmaster said very quietly. Harry remembered hearing that phrase once before, in that very office.

"We…" Harry began tentatively, "we wanted to defend ourselves." Dumbledore nodded, but still looked quite grave.

"You what?" Professor McGonagall interjected, aghast.

Draco answered this time, though not before he glared once again at Harry. They weren't through with their previous discussion, he had simply called a truce to present a united front to the adults. "We wanted to take part in the battle, professor, because we were the primary targets of the attack and felt that we should at least have something to do with our own defense. Also, I…er…I wanted to make sure my sister was okay," Draco concluded in a small voice, glaring again at Harry, who just rolled his eyes.

"I see," Dumbledore said. "I don't imagine that I need to impress upon any of you the severity, foolishness, and dangerous nature of what you did tonight, even if it was beneficial in the end. I understand that you are all very capable wizards that wish only to be helpful, but you must remember that you are still students, and as such, your safety is of paramount concern, as is the need for you to abide by school rules and regulations. I will be deducting fifty points for each of you from your houses, and you will be punished according to the further discretion of your Head of House." Dumbledore looked at Professors McGonagall. "Is there anything else we need to discuss? Would anyone care for a lemon drop? No? Professors, if you wouldn't mind doing one last check of the grounds, I believe we can send the students back to their dormitories. The aurors will stand guard tonight. Now, I must see about getting our Potions Master back."

Everyone rose to leave. Harry was rather taken aback at how non-chalantly the Headmaster had mentioned rescuing Snape, almost as if he were going to the store to pick up some milk. The teachers and students went their separate ways once they reached the bottom of the stairs outside the Headmaster's office. The tension between Harry, Ron, and Draco was oppressive.

Harry had wanted to ask Dumbledore about what Lucius Malfoy said during the attack. He wondered if the old Headmaster had hidden something from him, and why his uncle had reacted so badly to the Death Eaters' words. That made him uneasy. Then there was Draco, who Harry had decided that in spite of his change of heart was still a 'barmy git' just like Ron always said. He really had thought the blonde boy would see that whining and complaining about everything wasn't advantageous and that he would change his behavior. It seemed he had been wrong.

Draco was thinking furiously, trying to figure out why Harry had gotten so angry with him, apparently for no reason. Draco was actually pretty pissed at Harry as well. How could the other boy even _think_ of being mad at Draco because he was worried about Ivy? Draco started to get angry again just thinking about it, and subconsciously he ground his teeth together.

Ron watched the two boys warily as they walked. He had always been somewhat uneasy with Malfoy, and his friendship with Harry, but conversations with Hermione had convinced him to at least be civil to the Slytherin. Over the past few weeks he had even found himself almost taking a liking to his once-upon-a-time enemy. When Malfoy had been threatened by the Death Eaters, Ron wasn't sure why he had jumped in front of the other boy, but he knew it was the right thing to do. 'That's why you're a bloody Gryffindor' he thought to himself. Now, as he stole a glance at Harry and Malfoy, who were both glaring ominously at everything including each other, he marveled at how much they looked alike at that moment, and probably would have laughed out loud at this similarity if the situation had not been so serious. What was even funnier to Ron, but not in a laughing sort of way, was the fact that underneath the anger in Draco Malfoy's eyes he saw genuine hurt. He wasn't exactly sure what was going on between his best friend and his newest friend. 'Did I just call Malfoy my _friend? _ I must have a concussion or something.' But it was true, Malfoy was in fact befriending the other two-thirds of the Golden Trio, and Ron wondered what had brought about this sudden relapse of Malfoy's Slytherin tendencies, and Harry's equally confounding behavior.

The three boys reached the point where their paths diverged, and they parted ways without speaking further. As soon as Draco was out of sight Ron said, "Er…Harry…" but he was cut off.

"I don't want to talk about it Ron." Ron looked hurt now as well. Harry, seeing his friend's reaction, sighed and stopped to look at his friend. Harry put a hand on Ron's shoulder and said, "Look, I'm sorry for snapping at you. Malfoy just kind of got to me, and I'm trying to figure some other stuff out, but I'm not ready to talk about it, OK?"

Ron, like the good friend he was, was mollified. "No problem, you know I'm here if you need me. And Malfoy was kind of annoying. Actually, he _is_ kind of annoying, but you know what I mean. Come on." Harry knew he was very lucky to have a friend like Ron, and now feeling at least temporarily better, they headed off to the Gryffindor Common Room.

* * *

Back in the Headmaster's Office, Albus Dumbledore once again stuck his head in the fire, and talked at length with someone unseen. Finishing his conversation, he stood up and walked over to where Fawkes was sitting comfortably on his perch, watching the Headmaster with his beady black eyes. 

"You know what must be done, my old friend?" The headmaster asked the Phoenix. By way of response, Fawkes cocked his head and trilled a short burst of song. "Very well, off we go, then." The old man and his bird both disappeared in a flash of flame and smoke.

They reappeared next to a very old mansion. There was someone screaming in agony. Someone else was cackling evilly. Dumbledore frowned, and then began to turn about as if he were looking for something. Immediately, a very old wizard with one real eye and one magical eye that seemed to have a mind of its own appeared from behind a shrubbery and approached the pair. "Ah, Alastor. How kind of you to meet us. What is the latest?"

"He is still in there, though I don't think it's Snape that they're torturing. It must be someone else." Alastor Moody said. Moody was an ex-Auror, who was quite paranoid, but really quite an excellent Auror, though he was long retired.

"I see. Poor Lucius. Well, we shouldn't be here long. Off you go, Fawkes." The golden bird flew off; Dumbledore followed behind on foot, and they soon disappeared around the far side of the mansion.

The two figures reappeared several minutes later with a third figure. A very bruised and semi-unconscious Severus Snape was being helped along, one arm draped over the Headmaster's shoulders. This odd procession approached Moody, who was still standing guard, and Dumbledore said most cheerily, "Thank you Alastor. Sorry to interrupt your evening

"No trouble at all, sir." Moody disappeared with a loud crack, while Dumbledore and his two companions disappeared in the usual cloud of smoke and flame.

* * *

"You what?" Hermione shouted at her two friends who winced when they told her about losing house points. 

"Hermione, please. Don't you think we've been through enough already?" Harry replied in what he hoped was a soothing voice.

Hermione sniffed, "Well, Harry it's not like you didn't know it was going to happen, and in case you forgot, you just lost us _one hundred house points!" _Unfortunately, the last words Hermione spoke were loud enough for everyone else in the common room to hear. Harry and Ron tried to shush Hermione, but were unsuccessful. In short order, Harry and Ron were surrounded by many angry Gryffindors.

"Ye what?" Seamus Finnegan yelled. Harry groaned. If he heard that phrase one more time he was likely to impale himself on the bloody sword of Gryffindor. Once again, Harry and Ron both tried to shush Hermione before she could explain why Gryffindor had lost so many house points. They failed.

"But, Hermione," Ron whined. "Malfoy lost fifty points for Slytherin too, so it's not as bad as it sounds." The room exploded into a wall of noise again.

"Malfoy! Why were you with him?" Dean Thomas yelled.

"Yeah, you four sure have been hanging out a lot together lately.(,)" Lee Jordan added unhelpfully. Harry saw Fred and George leaning against the wall in the back of the room, clearly interested to see how Ron and Harry were going to get themselves out of this one.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all traded a nervous glance before Harry said very quietly, "Er…that's because Draco Malfoy and I are friends."

If the Gryffindor common room had been 'five' on a ten-point scale of volume when Hermione mentioned the hundred house points, and a 'seven' when Ron brought up Draco Malfoy, it was something around -12 at Harry's last statement.

"You what?" Lavender Brown said just as quietly.

"Oh, bloody hell!" Harry yelled in frustration, throwing his arms in the air. He was still very angry at his uncle for turning them in, angry at Draco for being a prick, angry at Hermione for announcing to the whole bloody house about losing house points, and he didn't want to deal with it all. "Look. We snuck out during the attack, we lost fifty house points apiece, and there's nothing to be done about it. I'm going to bed." Without further explanation, the dark-haired boy pushed his way through the crowd toward the stairs that led to his dormitory.

"Too right!" Ron agreed, and he followed his best friend up the stairs, leaving the remainder of Gryffindor house in confusion, murmuring about what possibly could be going on to make Harry Potter, not to mention Ronald Weasley, become friends with Draco Malfoy.

* * *

Draco was having little better luck in the Slytherin common room. He had planned to breeze his way through to his room, just like he had been doing the last several weeks, but when he climbed through the entrance, he stopped short. The majority of Slytherin house – certainly all those students in his year – were waiting for him. 'There goes the neighborhood' he thought glumly, then he winced. He had been spending too much time hanging around Harry's uncle and was beginning to pick up some of the professor's obnoxious Americanisms. 

"Well, well, well," he drawled haughtily. "If it isn't my own personal welcoming party. How lovely." Draco did his best to survey the room with a superior look on his face; really, he was trying to plan out an escape route. He did happen to notice his sister in the back of the room, pretending to look angry. She caught his eye and blinked, then placed her hand just so on her other arm. Draco got the message.

One of Draco's erstwhile "friends," Blaise Zabini, stepped forward menacingly. Draco hadn't really been paying that much attention to all the internal politics of Slytherin house since he had defected. It was interesting that Blaise had stepped in to fill the vacuum of power left by Draco's forced abdication as Crown Prince of Slytherin. He had assumed one of the older students would have taken up the leadership.

"Yes, well, we've all decided you've got a bit of explaining to do, Malfoy. Not only do we find out, once we're let out of the bloody dungeons, that you've lost us _fifty_ house points, but we then find out it's because you snuck out of the dungeons during the attack to hang out with Potter!"

"And what makes you think that I'm going to tell you anything?" Draco replied testily. He had thought about adding a few descriptives, but decided he'd better tone it down a bit.

"If you don't, I think we can safely say you'll regret it." Blaise said menacingly, scratching his temple with his wand in a most nonchalant manner. Draco thought it was an incredibly stupid thing to do. What if the wand backfired and blew off Blaise's head?

Trying not to chuckle out loud at that mental image, Draco drawled once more, "Yes, well, thanks for the warning, Zabini, but you'll forgive me if I don't exactly start quaking in my boots and bare my bloody soul to you. Now if you don't mind, I have more important matters to attend to." Draco pushed his way past Blaise who was surprised enough that he was unable to react in time. 'That was the tricky part' Draco thought with relief. He had interpreted his sister's message accordingly, that the majority of the students weren't hostile, just curious. It appeared that only Blaise and a few others were out for blood.

Draco quickly made his way through the rest of the crowd, some of whom were glaring at the blond boy in a most unpleasant manner. 'Well, I've probably just managed to piss off the rest of them,' he thought gloomily, but he continued on his way. When he arrived at his room, he locked the door, then leaned against it and breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't really thrilled about this new development with the Slytherins. To this point at least they had just avoided him. Once Lucius had a chance to communicate further with the rest of his housemates, especially about the evening's events, Draco figured that life in Slytherin house would get significantly worse. Combining that bit of information with the fact that his only other friend, Harry Potter, was now royally ticked at him as well, Draco felt very much depressed and alone, not to mention angry. Sighing, he went over to his desk to try and work on homework, hopeful that he'd be able to figure what was going on soon.

It wasn't long before Ivy made her customary appearance. She was still a bit shaky from her encounter with Lucius, and she rushed over to Draco, who enveloped her in a hug that threatened to crush her ribcage.

"Draco….can't breathe," she gasped.

"Er, sorry sis. I'm just glad you're alright." Draco eased up on his sister, who took a deep breath of air before glaring at her brother; Draco smiled weakly in return.

"Yeah, you were kinda pushing your luck out there weren't you?"

"Oh, probably, but I really didn't want to deal with all of that right now."

"You'll have to deal with it eventually," Ivy chided gently.

"Whatever. Blaise doesn't realize how lucky he is. He was about three seconds away from having to take up permanent residence in the hospital wing." Draco proceeded to tell Ivy about everything that had transpired since he and Ron had left her on the grounds. When he finished, he was angry all over again at having to talk about Harry.

"Er, Draco, I hate to be the one to burst your bubble, but Harry's got a point."

"What!" Draco's mouth opened and closed soundlessly several times.

"Oooo…you look just like Ron Weasley when you do that." Ivy giggled at the look on her brother's face. "It's true though. You are whiny, and insulting to Harry and his friends, and you are WAY overprotective when it comes to me. Although I don't especially appreciate the fact that he called me your 'bloody sister.'" She frowned.

Draco moved over to his bed and pouted, "Well, it was his fault."

Ivy joined her brother on the bed, "Yes, and it was yours too, and Weasley's, thus you're all being punished. Don't you think you should apologize to Harry?"

Draco went stone-faced again. "Not unless he apologizes to me first. Bloody Gryffindor goody-two-shoes prat. Just because he's the fricking Wonder Boy of the wizarding world doesn't mean he can go around acting like he owns the place."

Ivy sighed and looked at her very stubborn brother. "That's funny. You always did, just because you were a Malfoy. Look, just think about it, Draco. I've got to go before anyone sees me. By the way, Mum and Dad are expecting me to come home for Christmas."

Draco grimaced. "Are you?"

"I don't really see any way out of it. Will you stay here?"

"Well, I don't fancy myself going back to Malfoy Manor. I'd never see the light of day again. I don't really want you going either."

"I know. We'll figure something out." Ivy hugged her brother, who was now staring absent-mindedly at the wall. "Bye, big brother. You stay out of trouble," she added as she snuck back out the door, leaving Draco to his dark thoughts once more.

* * *

The next morning found Harry and Ron sitting alone at breakfast. The other Gryffindor fourth-years, and most of the rest of Gryffindor house were quite perturbed at them. 

"I guess now we know what Draco feels like every meal," Harry said glumly as they sat down by themselves. Ron just nodded. Several minutes later Hermione made her way down and joined them without saying a word. They sat in silence for some minutes – Draco had made his way into the Great Hall and sat down alone, looking even lonelier than usual - before Harry said, "I need to tell you about something that happened during the battle."

Ron looked interestedly at his best friend, as did Hermione, though she still looked rather miffed at the two boys as well. Harry quietly explained about Lucius Malfoy's comments during the attack, and his uncle's reaction. When he finished, both Ron and Hermione looked rather bemused.

"But, Harry what could your uncle possibly know about it? He was here at Hogwarts when it all happened," Hermione said with a frown.

Harry shrugged and looked up at the head table. Professor Marion looked like he hadn't gotten much sleep. "Hey, look at that."

Ron and Hermione turned and looked at the head table as well, where a very weak-looking and still-very-bruised Severus Snape was eating breakfast. "I think he's had a rough night, too," Ron said. "So much for getting out of Potions class today."

At this point, the Golden Trio was interrupted by Fred and George, who didn't seem the least bit put out that Harry and Ron had not only lost Gryffindor 100 points but were also friends with Draco Malfoy.

"Morning!" They said brightly in unison as they sat down next to Harry. The Golden Trio responded in kind, and Fred and George were happily reaching for food, when George stopped short all of a sudden. "Do you see what I see, brother mine?"

"I do, and he looks worse than normal," Fred replied. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked confusedly at each other and the twins. They didn't have the slightest clue what the two older Weasley's were talking about.

"Shall we?" Asked Fred.

"Indeed. Off we go," George agreed. Without further comment the twins rose from their seats and made their way over to the Slytherin table, earning glances from students and teachers alike. Professor Dumbledore noted the twins movement, and the corners of his mouth quirked up in a smile. Seeing them approach, everyone at the Slytherin table glared in the twins' direction.

Draco had become quite used to eating breakfast alone, and even though he knew he probably looked miserable, he actually enjoyed a peaceful, quiet meal. It was quite a contrast to the usual Slytherin conversation about who was up to what and who said what, and what they really meant when they said it. Thus it was that Draco, already in a bad mood from his arguments the night before was slightly perturbed when a large shadow loomed over him as he hunched over his second cup of coffee, which he had just poured.

The blond boy looked up just in time to see Fred and George take a seat on either side of him, beaming.

"Morning, chap!" They said once again in unison, cheerily ignoring the glares coming from the other end of the table. Draco grumbled something resembling a response.

"Looks like someone's not a morning person." Fred said.

"Are you always this cheery in the morning, or are you just trying to annoy the snot out of me?" Draco said testily.

"Well, it's nice to see you too." George tried to look hurt. Draco wasn't about to admit that it actually _was _nice to see the twins. He reached for the coffee pot to fill his third cup, but Fred grabbed it away from him.

"Ah-Ah-Ah, not until ickle Drakey-poo apologizes for being a grumpy bear." Fred did his best baby voice. Draco's eyes went wide at hearing his family nickname, then growled low in his throat and grabbed for the coffee pot again. The pot had a tight lid, and Fred tossed it to George, who caught it readily.

"Awww…he's so adorable when he's grumpy," George added fuel to the fire that was Draco's temper.

Draco was now quite red, and put out didn't begin to describe how he felt. His first inclination was to give the twins a tongue-lashing they wouldn't forget, or failing that, to hex them seven ways from Sunday, but he remembered that he hadn't been doing real well in the friend department lately, so he bit his tongue and said, "Fine. Sorry. Now give me the damn coffee pot before I transfigure your boxers into barracudas while you're still wearing them."

George looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'm not sure that was a real apology, but you're a Malfoy, and we know things like apologizing don't come naturally, so we'll let it slide this time." Fred nodded in agreement, and George handed the coffee pot to Draco, who sat down again, poured himself another cup, and recommenced his grumbling.

Fred and George also sat down, and looked at Draco for a moment before George said in a much more serious voice, "We need your help, Malfoy."

Draco looked up sharply, "You what?"

Fred picked up the narration. "We're working on a particularly difficult potion for…ah…a business venture of ours and we could stand a little assistance from someone who really knows their stuff." Fred hoped he'd not laid on too thick the appeal to Draco's ego.

Draco brightened, then looked suspicious, "Why should I? How do I know this isn't some evil Weasley trick to turn my skin purple or something?"

Fred and George looked scandalized. "We would never…"

"Inconceivable…"

"Look," Fred said in earnest, "We'll cut you in on the profit. 10 of everything we sell, if you help us."

"50," Draco responded without having to think.

"20"

"40"

"30, and that's our final offer."

"Deal," Draco said with his characteristic smirk. "Just let me know when and where. It's not like I'm doing anything else these days," he added with a sigh.

"We'll be in touch." Fred and George headed back to the Gryffindor table to grab a muffin before heading to class.

* * *

The bad thing about being mad at Harry Potter, Draco decided, was that they had all their classes together, so it wasn't like he could avoid the Gryffindor. Harry was thinking exactly the same thing. 

They were in the middle of a double Potions lesson, and Professor Snape, though obviously not recovered from his little visit to Riddle Mansion was not about to miss an opportunity to terrorize the Gryffindors if he could help it.

Of course, what made the situation even better was that Harry and Draco were partners for the class, and thus not only did they have to see each other, but they also had to work together on the potion, which was a Calming Draught today. The potion was supposed to be a deep blue color, and should have been gurgling occasionally over a blue flame. For some reason, Harry and Draco's potion was an angry red, and had been in constant danger of bubbling over. This was strange because usually Draco was very exacting when it came to potions work. Today, however, both he and Harry had been more concerned with glaring at each other and angrily throwing ingredients into the cauldron, trying to keep any conversation or interaction to a minimum.

"This has got to be the sorriest Calming Draught I've ever seen. Longbottom could do better than this, and it's all your fault, Potter," Draco grumbled.

"Don't you bloody well start that again, Malfoy, or I'll stuff your wand up your arse."

"Oooo…is the big bad Gryffindor threatening me?" Draco said in mock horror.

Harry just growled and launched himself at Draco, whose eyes got very large, and the blond boy began to back away from the raven-haired boy. Snape, though ill, was still able to move surprisingly quickly, and he swooped down on the two boys, grabbing each by the scruff of the neck. "I have had quite enough of you two. Get out of my class, and as punishment, you will meet me at 8 o'clock tonight in the Room of Requirement to serve your detentions."

Harry and Draco both looked at the Potions professor, aghast, but they knew they were beaten. They left the class, glaring, and went back to their respective common rooms until it was time for the next class.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was uneventful, although Harry noted that his uncle seemed oddly distant. This suited Harry just fine, as he still hadn't managed to talk to his uncle about the battle, and found himself oddly reticent to bring it up. The afternoon passed quickly as well, and soon it was time for Harry to go to detention. As he headed out of the Common Room, Hermione and Ron came down as well.

"We're going to visit your uncle. Hope you don't mind." Hermione said. "I've got a couple of things I want to ask him about."

"Of course I don't mind. I've got to get to detention. See you later," Harry waved, and made his way out the portrait hole.

It was fairly easy for him to find the Room of Requirement, as Draco was already there, leaning against the wall looking peeved. "Malfoy," Harry said by way of greeting, glaring at the blond boy.

"Potter," came the equally terse reply. The two boys waited in silence for some minutes until Snape appeared around the corner and made his way down the hallway, robes billowing. The professor glanced down his long crooked nose at each of the two boys before opening the door to the room and stalking inside. The two boys quickly followed.

The floor and walls of the room were covered in what looked to Harry like Muggle gymnastic mats. Along one wall were wooden pegs with boxing gloves hanging from them. Nothing else was visible.

Professor Snape turned to the two boys. "I, and the rest of this school, have put up with your obnoxious little rivalry for nearly three-and-a-half years now. When you were enemies, it was understandable, if not enjoyable. Now that you are supposedly _friends_ I find your behavior today both ridiculous and completely unacceptable. Thus, we are here. If you insist on behaving like children, then that is how you must settle your differences – like children. I am going to leave the room and lock the door behind me. It will not unlock to let you out until you stupid, sniveling _boys_ have dealt with whatever it is that still lies between you." Snape turned and left the room without another word. The door clicked magically behind him as he left.

Harry and Draco watched the Potions Master leave, then turned and glared at each other. Not surprisingly, Draco was the first to speak. "Well, you've done it again, Potter. This is all your fault."

Harry was so angry with Draco he wanted to spit. He was tired of having everything blamed on him, and this emotion had dredged up three years of untempered rage. Without thinking, he crossed quickly over to Draco, and pulling his arm back, let fly with a punch that caught Draco strait on the nose. Draco fell to the ground immediately, blood gushing from his nose. Harry stood over him, waiting.

Draco, who was easily as mad as Harry, became even more enraged. With a blood-curdling scream, he launched himself off the floor and tackled Harry, knocking the other boy to the ground. The two boys rolled around for some minutes, wrestling, biting, pulling hair and punching or kicking where they could. Neither boy seemed able to get the upper hand.

As they fought, each boy was so focused on hurting the other that neither one realized they were slowly losing the subconscious control of their magical powers.

* * *

"Tea, or coffee?" Professor Marion said pleasantly to Ron and Hermione as they entered. 

"Tea, please," Ron answered for both of them. Professor Marion served the tea and they sat talking amiably for some time until the subject drifted casually to the Animagus transformation.

Casting a significant look at Ron, Hermione said, "Er…Harry told us you are an animagus."

Professor Marion smiled, "He doesn't keep much from you two does he? Yes, I am an aminagus. I think all the Potters are. I happened to start the process of learning how to do the transformation along with the Marauders. Of course, I was only a first year, so I only had the barest idea what it was all about, but I figured it out eventually."

"How did you figure out what your animal form was?" Ron asked interestedly.

Professor Marion laughed. "That was rather a funny occurrence. It was in my third year. I was in the dormitory late one night, and I remember one of my friends telling a really funny, if slightly off-color joke. Or maybe it was a dirty limerick." Professor Marion looked thoughtful. "Anyway, it really struck me just right, and I was laughing so hard, I couldn't breathe. All of a sudden there was a flash of light, and I realized that something was very different. There was a mirror close by, and when I looked in it, a very surprised mountain lion was looking back at me. That's how I figured out what my animal form was."

"Wow," Ron said.

Hermione frowned, "But what did the joke have to do with you turning into a mountain lion?"

Professor Marion smiled knowingly, "Well, nothing particularly. However, the Animagus transformation, as you know, is difficult to do, and takes a long time to learn. It's the kind of spell that your body and your mind internalize over a period of time. Sometimes wizards who have started internalizing bits and pieces of the spell have been known to uncontrollably complete the transformation at random when they subconsciously lose control of their magic, usually because of stress, or high emotions."

"Ah," the two students said wisely. They continued to talk for some time, until Ron and Hermione reluctantly decided it was time to get back to the dormitory.

* * *

Harry and Draco's magical control continued to slip as they fought ever more intensely until suddenly there was a bright flash, and rather than two angry teenage boys fighting on the ground, there was a white tiger with grey stripes and grey eyes, and a black panther with green eyes. The panther had a lightning-bolt shaped patch of white fur above its eyes. The two large cats stopped and looked around and looked at each other, and quick as you can say "Meow" there was another bright flash as the boys subconsciously regained control of their anger – and their magic - and Harry and Draco were staring wide-eyed at each other, human again 

"Whoa," they said simultaneously.

"What was that all about?" Harry asked.

"I…I don't know, but I think we know what our animal forms are now. At least one of them," Draco replied.

The two boys continued to stare at each other in wonder, until an awkward silence grew in the room. Both boys seemed to be thinking that in light of what just happened their petty arguments were just that – petty.

"Er…Draco…"

"Yes, Harry?" Draco was looking at his feet.

"I'm sorry I attacked you…twice…and I'm sorry I punched you in the nose. It's still bleeding by the way." Draco's hand flew to his nose, which was in fact still bleeding, and fishing his handkerchief out of his pocket, he held it up to his face.

Draco glared at Harry for a moment before sighing, "I'm sorry I said everything was your fault. I've kind of been a prick, too. I guess I'm still working on this whole 'nice Draco' thing.'

"Yeah, you have been a prick…er, I mean, I guess we can both be kind of stubborn, so let's just drop it. Friends again?" Harry stuck out his hand. Draco grabbed it with his own and they shook.

"Friends again." Harry smiled at Draco in a way that only Harry Potter could smile. It was the kind of smile that made you feel like the most important person in the world, and that's exactly how Draco felt right then.

They turned to leave the room. The door clicked open as they approached. "How bloody cool is that! We know what our animal forms are. You look like a pretty mean tiger, Draco."

"Thanks. I have to admit, I was a bit shocked to see a black panther with green eyes staring back at me. Kinda cool that our animal forms are similar."

"No doubt," Harry agreed. Together the two friends exited the Room of Requirement and headed back to their dormitories for the night.


	15. Of Holiday Plans

Author's Note – Hi everybody. Thanks for tuning in again for the latest installment. I hope you enjoy it.

A point of clarification: In the course of reading some other people's work, I occasionally run across something that is similar in concept or execution to my own writing, and I always feel a little bad about this as I don't intentionally borrow things from other writers. If I like something I read enough to want to use it, I always ask permission, so any similarities are coincidental, and I apologize if anyone feels I've used something of theirs without permission. I suppose that given the HP universe, there's bound to be some overlap between all our various writings.

Thanks to everyone, of course, who reads and reviews, especially PlatoDan who is way too kind in his critique of my work.

I do have one request (and I'm asking for it here): I'm perfectly fine with less than glowing reviews (though my ego does take a hit), however, I would appreciate it, as a matter of courtesy, if you would abstain from being profane when you review - not so much for me, but for other people who read the reviews as well. Also, feel free to drop me an email if you do or don't like the story, that way we can have an intelligent dialogue about it.

Disclaimer: Not mine, it's 'K+', nobody was hurt, and Draco gets a drive-by Trelawney-ing. Enjoy...

**Chapter 15 – Of Holiday Plans**

Harry had fully intended to tell Ron and Hermione about what had happened in the Room of Requirement, but by the time he got back to the dormitory it was late, and Ron and Hermione were nowhere to be found. He had a sneaking suspicion his two best friends were off somewhere "studying." Accordingly, he went to bed early. Sleep did not come quickly or easily, as his mind was subconsciously processing all the events of the day.

At breakfast Harry found an opening to talk about the night before, as the rest of Gryffindor house was still angry enough with Ron and Harry to leave the three friends alone at the end of the table at breakfast. Harry would have preferred to have Draco join the conversation – he was alone too, of course – but Harry decided that would be too suspicious, and as yet, the reasons for the friendship between the blond Slytherin and the black-haired Gryffindor were largely unknown.

"So what did you get stuck doing in detention, mate, cleaning out cauldrons with your tongue?" Ron asked between mouthfuls of porridge. Harry made a face. He wondered if Ron would ever learn manners. Probably not.

"No, actually. Snape locked Draco and me in the Room of Requirement." Both Ron and Hermione looked slightly taken aback at that statement.

"Why in the name of Merlin did he put you in there? That doesn't sound like a very good place for detention," Hermione frowned.

"Well, the room was all decked out like a muggle gym." Now it was Ron's turn to frown. "You know, it had mats on the wall and floor, like for tumbling and stuff. And there were boxing gloves on pegs on the wall." Ron looked like he still didn't have a clue – a rather common occurrence for the red-haired boy.

"Anyway," Harry continued, rolling his eyes, "Snape told us that we were acting like little boys, and that we'd have to stay in the room until we worked out our differences. Then he left."

"And?" Hermione prodded impatiently.

Harry was enjoying keeping his friends in suspense, "Oh, you know," he shrugged. "Draco made another comment about it all being my fault, so I punched him, right on the nose. I was pretty angry."

Ron and Hermione gaped at Harry, mouths wide open. "But you had gloves on right?" Hermione finally asked.

Harry just grinned like the Cheshire cat. "Nope. I completely forgot about the gloves. My hand kinda hurts today, but it was worth it." Harry rubbed his hand appreciatively, "Draco didn't know what hit him!"

Ron exploded, "But that's bloody brilliant! Way to go mate! Even if he is our, er, I mean, your friend he's had that one coming for a long time." Ron suddenly looked very interested in his porridge, though it was obvious he was embarrassed at his little slip.

Harry smiled at Ron, genuinely happy that Ron, and therefore Hermione, had begun to accept Draco as a friend, too, even if the blond boy was still a git. He continued to relate his fight with Draco, leaving out the part about the two boys' spontaneous transformations.

"So you worked it out? You were both pretty awful to each other you know," Hermione said in a slightly self-righteous tone.

"Er, yes, I guess you could say that," Harry said cryptically, then continued on in a softer voice. "While Draco and I were still trying to kill each other, something very odd happened. We transformed into our animal forms."

Once again, Ron and Hermione looked at Harry, speechless. Once again, Hermione recovered first. "Of course! We were just talking with your uncle about that – wizards who are learning to be Animagi begin to internalize the spell bit by bit. Sometimes, during periods of high stress or high emotion, they lose control of their magic - just like you used to do at the Dursleys - and the loss of control allows the transformation to take place spontaneously."

It was now Harry's turn to gape at his friends. "You're kidding. How did my uncle know that?"

Hermione giggled, "Well, it turns out he discovered his animal form when someone told him a dirty joke during his third year. It was so funny, he lost it, and all of a sudden, there was mountain lion instead of your uncle."

"Wow."

"Bloody hell, Harry." Ron was being his usual exuberant self. "Forget that, aren't you going to tell us what your animal form is?"

"I haven't actually seen it – there weren't any mirrors in the Room of Requirement. According to Draco, I'm a black panther with green eyes and a white lightning-bolt scar."

"Whoa! Wicked!" Ron exclaimed predictably.

"Wow, Harry, that's really brilliant," Hermione agreed.

Harry nodded, "Draco's form is pretty neat too. He's a white tiger with grey eyes and grey stripes."

Ron looked less enthusiastic at this news, though he did admit that was an impressive form as well. Hermione smirked (a most un-Hermione-like expression, Harry thought) and said, "Well, I suppose if he ever needs a job, he could always move to the States and be part of that show in Las Vegas – you know, Sigfried and Roy."

Harry laughed so loud that several students turned and stared. Ron looked confused. "Muggle thing, don't worry about it, Ron."

The redhead shrugged and said, "I wish I knew what our forms are." They didn't really have time to discuss this subject in detail, as at that moment the morning post arrived, accompanied by the sound of hundreds of owls. Hedwig landed next to Harry, clutching a small brown envelope. Pig landed next to Ron carrying a similar note and hooting enthusiastically. "Bloody bird, doesn't have any dignity," Ron muttered as he extracted the note and opened it. Harry was opening his as well, but Ron was faster.

"Uh-oh. McGonagall's given us detention tonight. We're supposed to meet her in her office at seven. Great," he said disgustedly. Harry sighed in agreement. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

None of the Golden Quartet, or anybody else for that matter, seemed to be enjoying themselves over the next few days. The teachers had all redoubled their efforts to cram as much information as possible into the last few weeks of the term, which caused the general level of grumbling among the students to increase alarmingly. Draco, Harry, and Ron were all dealing with the fallout of losing a significant number of house points. For Draco, this just gave the Slytherins even more reason to shun or otherwise harass him. Harry was used to the fickle nature of his housemates, but it was a new experience for Ron. This probably would not have been as much of an issue if the four students had not been trying to spend less time in Professor Marion's apartment and more time in their respective houses. 

Harry was beginning to worry about his uncle. Since the Halloween attack, Professor Marion seemed to become more and more despondent. His classes were still pretty good, but the young professor lacked a certain intangible spark of energy, and whenever Harry spent time with him, Professor Marion always seemed preoccupied. This only served to reinforce the growing unease in Harry's mind that had begun with Lucius Malfoy's scathing comments during the attack. Harry had been unable to think of a good way to ask his uncle about what the elder Malfoy said, and in the professor's current state of mind, Harry wasn't sure asking was a good idea in the first place. Thus it was that the Golden Quartet had been shifting their evening meetings back to the library, at least several times a week.

One such evening in the second week of November found the four students at their favorite table in the library huddled over piles of books talking quietly. "I haven't been able to find out a bloody thing!" Harry said in an exasperated voice.

"I haven't either," Draco agreed disgustedly.

Ron just shrugged. "Don't look at me, ask the human encyclopedia here," he said, pointing at Hermione, who shot Ron a glare.

"It just so happens that I found a copy of _Merlin's Beard_ in the Biographies section. I don't think it had been touched in a century."

Ron snorted, "Shocker, that."

Hermione glared at the red-headed boy again but continued, "Anyway, it turns out that Merlin was descended from a race that appeared in southwest England, presumedly arriving there because they were fleeing the destruction of Atlantis."

"Hang on, my father has a copy of that book. I remember thumbing through it," Draco added. "Merlin and Arthur visited there on several occasions, and Merlin is said to have disappeared back into that part of England after Arthur was taken to Avalon."

"So, the Dragon's Tear is somewhere in the southwestern part of the country?" Harry asked.

"Most likely," Hermione agreed.

"Did the Atlanteans have a capital city or anything like that?" Ron asked.

Hermione frowned again, "Avalon was it, I think. Some muggle encyclopedias refer to it as the place where Glastonbury Tor is now."

"Bloody Hell!" Ron exclaimed. "That's got to be one of the most popular wizarding tourist spots in the whole bloody country!" Draco nodded in agreement.

"What do you bet that's where the Dragon's Tear is?" Harry said softly.

"But what do we do about it? Surely Dumbledore and your uncle already know?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know. Uncle Brandon was muttering something about some church in Cornwall the other day," Harry said resignedly. "I'll bring it up with him when I have the chance, but he hasn't been himself lately." Harry didn't add that he wanted to ask his uncle several things, but the mere thought of asking about what Lucius had said made him most uncomfortable. There were things deep and dark there, and Harry wondered if they were not best left undisturbed.

* * *

The following Saturday morning found a motley crew of students and teachers on the Quidditch pitch. The unofficial games that Harry and his uncle had started had become so popular that they had almost as many spectators as the regular inter-house games. This week the weather was cold and clear, with a bright sun shining down on the pitch. It was the kind of day Harry loved for flying. 

Harry and his uncle had been chosen to be Seekers by unanimous consent of all those present. This alone would have made the match interesting given the Professor's true relation to Harry Potter. Those that were privy to that information knew they were in for a treat given that Harry and his uncle tended to behave similarly while on brooms.

Interestingly, Ron and Draco had been chosen as team captains, a fact which was proving unpopular as most of the school, and certainly all of Gryffindor house were peeved at both of them. At first, everyone had assumed that Harry and his uncle would be captains, but in a very Potter-ish display of bashfulness, both had respectfully declined that particular honor. Ron had immediately volunteered, and Draco, not about to let a Weasley get the best of him, volunteered also. There was a lot of grumbling and murmuring over this, but it represented a fairly even compromise for all the students, so in the end they opted to tolerate two unpopular captains.

Lee Jordan was playing Keeper for Draco's team, while Ron was Keeper for his; Fred and George Weasley had been split up, though the were both playing their usual position of Beater. Draco had reluctantly picked Pansy Parkinson to be his other Beater while Ron had chosen Justin Finch-Fletchley. Seamus Finnegan, Michael Corner, and Cho Chang were playing Chaser for Ron with Madam Hooch and Colin Creevey playing the same position along with Draco. Harry was Seeker for Ron, and Professor Marion was Seeker for Draco.

Everyone took their places, and Harry noted that a brisk breeze was blowing out of the mountains. Professor Marion flew very close to Harry and whispered, "Well, Harry, I know you're a good Seeker and all that, but you've never had to play another Potter before. I'll go easy on you, I promise." The professor smirked at his nephew.

"Oh, I don't know uncle," Harry said in an equally low voice, "I'd hate for you to hurt yourself – your age and all. It's not your fault you're a bit….well, past your prime." Harry gave his uncle an identical smirk.

Professor Marion looked at his nephew, shocked. "Why you little…you're getting kind of big for your britches aren't you?" Harry wasn't sure what his uncle meant, but he gathered that he had come off rather better in the exchange. They didn't have time for more conversation as the whistle was blown, and the balls were released into play.

The match progressed quickly, and it was clear that the teams were evenly matched. Ron had better beaters in George and Justin, while Draco's chasers were more effective, though this had nothing to do with Colin Creevey who looked as if he were distinctly uncomfortable without his camera. As usual it was going to be up to the Seekers to decide the game.

While most Seekers usually decided to mark Harry rather than look for the snitch itself, Harry was gratified to see his uncle fly to the other end of the pitch and take up the search on his own. 'Good,' he thought, 'a real opponent.' Usually, Draco was the only other Seeker that could give Harry a run for his money. At that moment, he saw a golden flicker right in the middle of the pitch, and he sped off toward it, the Firebolt accelerating rapidly. Harry noted with disappointment that his uncle had spotted the snitch as well, though slightly after Harry did. 'Wow, I think his broom is as fast as mine, but how can that be?' It was true, though Professor Marion had been slightly slow on the uptake, his broom had made up for lost time, and the two Seekers were equidistant from the Snitch.

Harry couldn't remember what kind of broom his uncle used, but he certainly didn't remember it being that fast in prior matches. The two Seekers were now approaching each other very quickly. They got closer, and closer, and closer until it appeared they must crash into each other, when suddenly the Snitch shot up and away into the air. Both Potters growled identically in frustration and veered to their respective lefts, missing each other by inches. Harry barely had time to note the writing on the handle of his uncle's broom that said 'Strato-Speedster Special'. He had never heard of that kind of broom before.

The match continued, the two teams staying basically even – sometimes Ron's team would be up ten points and then Draco's would take the lead for a while. Harry and his uncle had taken to doing laps of the pitch, Harry's eyes looking for the snitch while his brain tried to figure out what was the deal with his uncle's broom. Finally, after what seemed like forever Harry saw the snitch hovering up by the stands where the Ravenclaws normally sat. He took off again, and once again, his uncle was just a tad bit behind. Luck was with Harry this time, and though his uncle had a faster broom, Harry was closer to the snitch. It was still a close thing, as Harry caught the snitch just as his uncle tried to knock his hand away – his uncle's broom was that fast. The whistle blew and everyone landed and shook hands for a good game.

Professor Marion patted his nephew on the shoulder. "You really are an excellent Seeker, Harry!" he said as the crowd milled around them chatting happily

Harry beamed with pride. "Thanks! Hey, unc..I mean, Professor, what kind of broom is that?" Harry hoped no one had heard his slip.

"It's a Strato-Speedster Special, an old broom actually. It's always been fast, but let's just say I've, well, enhanced it a bit with some creative magic. It doesn't turn as well as your Firebolt though."

"You can modify broom spells?" Fred piped in. He had overheard the conversation, as had George. They both had predatory grins on their faces.

"Er…yes…it's not too different from a muggle modifying a car to make it go faster," Professor Marion said a little uncomfortably. Lee Jordan was listening in as well now.

"And you know how to do this?" George asked next.

Professor Marion looked even more uncomfortable with the discussion. Harry just laughed at his uncle. "Well…yes…that is, maybe…"

"Excellent!" the twins said together, and they went off in their own direction, heads together and talking and gesturing furiously.

* * *

Brandon Marion was seated in his library the following afternoon. He had decided that being a professor was a lot more difficult than it seemed. It wasn't just that he had to teach class and prepare lessons, he also had to grade papers, tutor students, and make himself available for office hours. Then, of course on top of that, Dumbledore had him doing all kinds of work on the Dragon's Tear and defending the castle against random Death Eater attacks, and he was trying to come to terms with the fact that he had spent half his life living an illusion. 

Then there was Harry, his nephew, only son of his dead brother. Brandon couldn't even begin to describe how he felt about the teenager who was really his only surviving close relation. On some level, Brandon felt the need to take the place of his brother in Harry's life, and to be a father figure. Yet Brandon knew that he would never be able to live up to the boy's image of James Potter, nor did he want to. On another level, he felt more like Harry's older brother. It was amazing how much Harry looked like James, and Brandon thought that might be part of it.

It was equally obvious to the professor that his nephew was very fond of Sirius Black, the boy's Godfather. This presented several problems for the professor. First, Brandon blamed himself for Black's imprisonment, and for the death of James and Lily Potter. Second, though Brandon and Sirius had been close, the younger of the Potter brothers had never understood why James hadn't named Brandon as Godfather to Harry, and thus, deep down, he probably harbored some resentment toward Sirius Black. Third, Brandon felt distressingly overprotective of Harry, though he did his best to tone it down. Harry was barely a year older than Brandon had been when his world was turned upside down, and Brandon felt an irrational need to protect his nephew from that sort of thing; it didn't seem to register with the professor that Harry had been through far more already. Still, the point was, Brandon felt protective and he remembered that Sirius and James were not exactly law-abiding citizens while at school. Brandon knew that Harry took after his father in this respect, but he wasn't keen on letting Sirius encourage that particular behavior. Brandon himself had been much more interested in following rules, and tending to his studies, much like Hermione Granger.

Brandon looked up from his musings as Dexter sauntered into the library, nonchalantly examining everything in the room, including the professor, as if it were all his personal property. The cat seemed to sense his servant - rather, his owner – was in a pensive mood, and decided the best course of action would be to present himself for a nice scratch behind the ears. Accordingly, the orange cat jumped lightly in the professor's lap and began to knead a spot to soften it up a bit before lying down and purring contentedly.

"I guess we know what you're here for," the professor said as he obediently began to stroke the cat. Brandon returned to his thoughts, realizing that though he had known his nephew for a very short time, he was immensely proud of him.

It was not lost on the professor that Harry and his friends had been making less frequent visits to see him, and to conduct their evening studies in his sitting room. Brandon thought this was a good thing, both because the kids needed to socialize with others their age, and because it made it less awkward for Brandon to be around Harry. He knew his nephew, and it would not be long before the boy began to ask about things Brandon didn't really want to talk about to anyone, least of all the person who was most deeply affected by the professor's mistakes of long ago. He vaguely missed the energy and camaraderie of having the four students in his apartment every evening – each one had their own unique gifts - even Draco, who Brandon had come to care about nearly as much as he had Harry, and probably because of Harry's relationship with the Slytherin, but Ron, Hermione, and Draco came to visit the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor even when Harry couldn't join them, and the professor was glad of that.

Brandon was surprised at how well the students seemed to like him. Classes had been going well, though admittedly, Brandon hadn't been himself lately. Still, the students seemed generally attentive and receptive to what he was trying to teach – even the Slytherins. In fact, if Brandon had been forced to choose, he would have said that Harry's class was the worst, simply because Harry and Draco seemed to find an unbelievable amount of ways to cause trouble without getting caught. Brandon wondered if Harry thought maybe his uncle had a soft spot for his nephew, and overlooked his antics, which was probably true. It was also a rare day when some student didn't drop by Brandon's apartment to chat or to ask a question about something, and the Gryffindors had made him an honorary member. Harry had dropped by one afternoon for a chat, and Brandon had told him all about it. "I can't wait to see the look on their faces when they find out you were a Gryffindor before any of them were born!" They had both laughed about that.

Harry had also brought up a taboo subject, though not the one the professor was expecting. It was a grey day outside, with a cold wind that whispered about the coming of winter and snow. Harry and his uncle were in the sitting room, the professor with his usual cup of coffee, and Harry with a cup as well. "I don't know how you convinced me to try this stuff."

"Come to the dark side, Harry…drink the coffee…feel its power coursing through your veins." Harry cracked up as his uncle made loud breathing sounds, much like Darth Vader. Harry had never been allowed to see the Star Wars movies, or any movies for that matter, but he understood the reference.

Cautiously, Harry raised the mug to his lips and took a sip. "It's awful!" Harry said as he made a face after swallowing a mouthful of the bitter liquid.

"Did you put anything in it?" Brandon asked peering over at his nephew's cup.

"Er…no. I drink tea without cream or sugar, I figured I should try coffee the same way. Although, now that I think about it, Draco always puts lots of both in his."

"Boudicca's bra, Harry! No one in their right mind tries coffee for the first time without doctoring the snot out of it! I knew there was a reason I liked your blond friend, even if he is a Slytherin." The young professor rolled his eyes at his nephew, who looked as if he couldn't decide to be perturbed or amused at his uncle's choice of words. Brandon reached over and poured a stout helping of cream in his nephew's coffee, then followed it up with an equally healthy dose of sugar, then twirled his finger in the air to magically stir the concoction. Harry cautiously sipped at his mug again. His face lit up in a smile. "Wow, this is good."

"You see, two people as brilliant as Draco and I couldn't be mistaken."

Harry snorted, then said seriously, "Speaking of Draco…um, uncle, you know that the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, right?"

Brandon did a double-take. "No, Harry, I didn't. That's quite interesting."

Harry explained about his episode with the Sorting Hat, after which the professor said, "Well, I'm sure you would have been simply marvelous as a Slytherin, and your father would have found it quite amusing I think."

Harry looked relieved, then continued, "Speaking of dragons and all that, there's something else I wanted to ask you…" he trailed off, it took a moment for his uncle to make the connection between Draco and dragons.

It was Brandon's turn to look apprehensive. "Yes?"

"Well, er, I guess I should just say it." Harry fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair. "Do you know where the Dragon's Tear is?"

Brandon Marion stared at his nephew. In one way, he was relieved that the question was completely different from the one he expected. In another way, however, the Dragon's Tear was supposed to be completely a secret. He decided to play dumb.

"What are you talking about, Harry?"

Harry raised one eyebrow and frowned at his uncle. "Oh come on, uncle. You know what I'm talking about. I heard Dumbledore mention it to you in his office, and I've seen all the research you've been doing."

Brandon looked long and hard at his nephew, as if he was measuring him. Harry met his uncle's gaze defiantly.

"Okay. Yes, I do think I know where the Dragon's Tear is. I believe it's in a little church that has been all but forgotten, somewhere in Cornwall. It's reputed to be the oldest church in England."

Harry nodded. "That's what I was afraid of. I think, well, we think that the Dragon's Tear is at Glastonbury Tor."

"What? Why? And who's 'we'?" the professor said, nonplussed.

"Er…well, we think it's there, because that's where Avalon is supposed to be, and Merlin and Arthur went there several times, and well, it just feels like it _has _to be there." Harry didn't feel like he was explaining himself very well. It all made perfect sense to him, intuitively, but it wasn't exactly something he could show proof of. "And 'we' is me, Ron, Hermione, and Draco. We've, uh, kinda been researching, too, since we found out what you were doing."

The professor's face hardened. "I see. Well, you may have a point, and so far the four of you haven't done anything beyond looking for information, so I suppose that's fine. I've heard some of the stories about your…escapades, Harry, and this is not one of those things you need to go rushing off in search of. Do you understand me?"

Harry was now a little perturbed at his uncle. Why did he think he could talk to Harry like that? He wasn't Harry's father, or his guardian. Then Harry realized that his uncle really was the closest thing he had to both a father and a guardian – even more so than his godfather. Thus, he swallowed what he was about to say and said instead, "Yes sir, but don't expect me to like it."

Brandon chuckled, "And that is why you're both a Potter and a Gryffindor. I don't expect you to like it, but it's for all of your safety." Then the professor got serious again, "If you disobey me, Harry James Potter, not only will I take so many house points Gryffindor won't win the house cup for the rest of the millennium, I'll give you detention every night for the rest of the year AND I'll tan your hide so badly you won't be able to sit down for a week."

Harry looked at his uncle, his eyes wide and his mouth open. "You'd _spank_ me?"

"Damn straight…I mean, yes I would. I know how effective points and detentions are with you, and I don't think you're so old yet that you can't be spanked any more."

Harry sulked a bit, until his uncle said, "Now come on, Harry, don't be mad. It's just because I care about you. I've lost too many loved ones already to lose you too." Harry looked at his uncle, and though he didn't particularly like being told what to do, he understood. He had lost too many loved ones too.

* * *

Some time later, Brandon wasn't sure how long, there was a tapping on the window, bringing the professor once again out of his memory of the recent conversation with his nephew. A large and tired-looking barn owl was at the window. 'Barn owl?' thought the professor. 'Do they have those in England?' Frowning, he dumped Dexter unceremoniously off his lap (Dexter was clearly perturbed at having his nap interrupted) and went to the window and opened it to admit the owl. 

The owl flew through the open window and landed heavily on the professor's desk. The owl had in fact made a very long journey, judging by its appearance. Brandon untied the letter from the owl's leg, gave it an owl treat, and placed it onto the perch he kept in his office for just such an occasion. The owl probably would have preferred to rest in the owlery, but Brandon thought that it looked a little worn out to fly up there just yet.

Brandon examined the letter and saw that it had in fact come from the States – from his cousins! This was certainly a surprise. Brandon's family had been rather apprehensive about his taking the job at Hogwarts. Brandon now understood why, of course, thus he was somewhat nervous as to what information the letter might contain. He opened it slowly.

_Dear Brandon,_

_We hope this letter finds you well, and settling into your new life. I suppose it would be more appropriate to say re-settling into your old life, for by now you no doubt remember all the events that culminated in your being sent to live with us. I can only imagine all of the feelings and emotions you must be dealing with, and hope you do not hold it against David and I that we didn't tell you your true story, and understand the reasons why. _

_Having said that, David and the boys and I will be in England over the Christmas holidays. We've decided that we need to spend some time seeing some landmarks of the wizarding world. England is such an old place when compared to the United States and David and I think the boys would benefit from seeing some "culture". We would very much like to see you and spend time with you. I don't know what plans you have for the holidays, but maybe you can squeeze us in. The boys especially have missed having you around to get into trouble with._

_Well, I suppose I should end this letter. We love you and think of you often. Look forward to hearing from you._

_Love,_

_Athena_

Brandon smiled. His cousin was nothing like her namesake, the Greek goddess. It was funny, the professor thought, how he felt so much closer to his cousins since he had been away from them. 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder,' he thought, and he realized that he was excited about the prospect of seeing his adopted family again.

But what to do about Christmas? Brandon hadn't given it much thought. He assumed that he would be spending Christmas at his castle in Catalonia. He also assumed that Harry would join him, but that might be a bad assumption. He decided to go find his nephew, and ask about Christmas plans. He needed to let his cousins know where they would be.

* * *

Harry, at that moment, was once again causing quite a commotion in the Gryffindor Common Room. Ron and Hermione were off doing something together again, leaving Draco and Harry to fend for themselves when it came to homework. Neither particularly wanted to go to the library, so Harry suggested they go back to the Gryffindor Common Room. 

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Harry? From what I understand, they're not too happy with you right now, and I know they don't like me. All hell will break loose if we show up there together to do homework."

"You've got a point, Draco, but it's bound to happen sometime. Besides, we can't go to the Slytherin Common Room either, can we?"

"Touche," agreed Draco, and off they went.

All hell breaking loose turned out to be accurate. As it usually was this time of year, the Common Room was quite crowded. Harry and Draco had hoped to sneak through the portrait into a quiet corner of the room where they could spread out at one of the tables to do work on Divination. Professor Trelawney had now taken to predicting Draco's imminent demise almost as often as she did Harry's.

Any such thoughts of an unnoticed entry were shattered as soon as Draco's blond head popped through the portrait. Seamus Finnegan, who Harry decided had no concept of tact, glanced over at the portrait from where he was playing Exploding Snap with Dean Thomas and yelled, "What in the bloody hell is he doing here!"

Harry groaned as fifty sets of eyes snapped over to where Draco was standing next to and slightly behind Harry, looking slightly affronted. "Better let me handle this, Draco. I'm rather used to it, I'm afraid." Draco simply nodded slightly in return.

"Draco's helping me with Divination, Seamus. It's no big deal. He is a Seer after all."

Seamus looked from Harry to Draco, nonplussed. Harry was glad to see that underneath the shock he wasn't really angry, just worked up. "Draco? So he's Draco now, is he? It's one thing to play Quidditch with him 'Arry, but invitin' him into the common room, that's a bit much."

Harry could hear Draco grinding his teeth in frustration. He leaned closer to Seamus and said quietly, "Come on, Seamus, he's not that bad really, once you get past all the pureblood crap." He risked a glance back at Draco, who was doing his best to listen in on the conversation. "You heard what happened during the attack, and well, he's kinda been a little jumpy ever since. He doesn't really feel safe unless he's around me or Ron for some reason. Some barmy prophecy about the 'lightning-boy and his flame-haired companion providing sanctuary for the pale child' or some such nonsense Trelawney gave him." Harry did his best imitation of the Divination teacher, and then winked at Seamus, who laughed out loud. He hoped his made up story was vague enough to discourage verification, and plausible enough to get Seamus to actually buy it.

Seamus looked at Harry and Draco critically for a moment, then said, "All right, chap, I'm sure it's fine, then. Just a bit of a shock you know." The Irish boy went back to his game. Harry and Draco quickly and quietly made their way to a table near the back of the room, trying to ignore the suspicious glances in their direction. Once they were seated, Draco hissed, "What in the name of Nebuchadnezzar's knickers did you tell him?"

Harry stifled a laugh, "I told him you were scared to death of being by yourself, and that Trelawney had prophesied about Ron and I protecting you and you'd been hanging around ever since."

Draco went beet red. Harry thought he was doing an amazingly good impression of Ron. "It's a good thing you're my friend, Harry Potter," Draco said in a dangerous low voice. "If you weren't, not only would I hex you inside out, but then I'd hog-tie you and make you float naked through the Great Hall at the Yule Ball. And wouldn't that be a pretty sight. I can think of at least twenty or thirty people who would pay money to see that. Hmm, maybe that's not a bad idea at all." Draco pretended to fish in his robes for his wand.

"Uh, I don't think that's necessary, Draco. You're my friend, remember?" Harry said nervous.

Draco just looked disappointed. "Fine. Let's get on with it, then."

They didn't have much chance to get on with it, because at that moment Fred and George appeared. "What's this about a snake in the lion's den? Ah, Draco, how simply smashing to see you," George greeted Draco cheerily.

"Yes, just the Death-Eater-in-training we've been hoping to run into," Fred added, emphasizing the part about Death Eater-in-training so that everyone would know he was kidding, and that the whole situation was a bit ridiculous. He was rewarded with a few laughs from around the room, which seemed to ease the tension.

"Oy, now what?" Draco asked, pretending to be irritated.

"We were just about to take a trip to the laboratory, and thought you might like to join us," Fred whispered, bending over the table to speak in Draco's ear.

"Right. Harry, you'll have to think up new and exciting ways to kill yourself alone tonight. Messers Weasley and I have business to which we must attend."

Draco followed the twins out of the Common Room leaving a bemused Harry. Draco and the twins had…business…together? He shook his head in disbelief and began to work on how best to die this month.

Draco followed the twins through a maze of passageways and tunnels somewhere in the depths of the castle. Draco was somewhat surprised that most of these were unknown to him. He made it a habit to find out all the possible routes to and from various places in the castle. After about ten minutes of walking in silence the twins stopped next to a full-length painting of a red-headed wizard in what looked like some kind of study.

"Hullo, Evan," Fred said to the painting.

"Well, hello there boys. I see you've brought company." The man in the painting shifted to look at Draco. "Oh dear, he's a Malfoy. You boys aren't under duress or anything are you?"

"No, no," George clarified, "Draco's the best potions student around, and we need help with something we're working on, it's all on the up-and-up."

"Alright. In you go, then." The painting slid aside to admit the three boys, who stepped through quickly, Draco glaring at the painting before it shut behind him.

"That's our great, great, great uncle Evan Weasley. He was a Charms Professor here some time back. They stopped to let Draco look around the laboratory. It seemed typical. One wall was full of books on shelves, the opposite wall had a huge chalkboard, on which were scribbled many notes and even some formulas. The remainder of the room contained tables piled high with beakers, caludrons, and other potions apparatus, some in use, some not. The center of the room was taken up with a large worktable, which at the moment contained only one caludron, bubbling away merrily.

"Nice setup," Draco said, then he nodded at the cauldron on the center table. "Is this it?"

Fred and George both nodded, then Fred spoke, "We're working on a potion for a new candy that's supposed to cause the person that eats it to have an immediate, undeniable urge to, well, defecate. The problem is that the ingredient we're using to give the proper effect is a little too powerful. We don't want people soiling themselves. We just want to make them really nervous until they have the chance to get to the loo.

"Ah. I'm guessing you're using mospe oil to cause the urge?"

Fred and George nodded.

"Hmmm. Have you tried adding a sprig of spearmint?"

"Yes," George said, "All it did was make it, er, smell better. Fred tested that batch. He didn't have to wear cologne for a week."

Draco grimaced, "Too much information. How about essence of murtlap?"

Fred shook his head, "No good. It stopped the burning sensation, according to the test subject, which was George, but didn't slow anything down."

"Have either of you ever heard of slowsand?" Draco asked sagely.

The twins looked at each other, then looked at Draco and shook their heads.

"Quicksand gets it's name from the fact that it's easy to sink into it and get stuck, but it also is called quicksand because when you use it in potions it has a tendency to speed up the effect of the potion. Slowsand, which is harder to find, but is available through most apothecaries, has the opposite effect. It delays the onset of the potion. I'm guessing a pinch of that would solve your problem.

"Brilliant! Slowsand! I bet we can nick some…er, round some up in short order." Fred said, looking warily at Draco.

Draco laughed, "Yes, Professor Snape has some in his stores, but I didn't tell you that."

"Thanks for your help Draco," George said genuinely. "We'll be sure to cut you in on your 20 share when we start making sales."

Draco shot a quick glare at George. "It was 30," then he smiled, "but you're welcome. Glad I could help. OK, I should get back to Harry, I'm sure he's made no progress on his homework. He really is dreadful at Divination. I can find my way back. No need to walk me out."

* * *

Harry was interrupted again just a couple of minutes after Draco left with the twins by a shadow standing over the table. "Oh, bloody hell, what is it now?" He said irritably, looking up. Harry's uncle was the one responsible for blocking Harry's light. 

"Oops, hello unc…er, Professor Marion. I didn't realize it was you." Harry smiled weakly.

"No problem, Harry. Listen, is there someplace we could talk quietly?"

"Sure, why don't you come up to my dormitory, I don't think anyone's in there at the moment." The professor nodded, and he and Harry went upstairs.

A moment later, Harry showed his uncle into the fourth-year dormitory. Harry became slightly self-conscious as he realized that his uncle had never seen where he lived before, and of course it was a wreck.

The professor took a look around, smiled, and sat on Harry's unmade bed. "You realize, Harry, this was also my dormitory, and that this also was my bed?"

"Er no, but that's great!" Harry didn't know what else to say.

"Have a seat." Professor Marion patted the bed beside him. Harry went over and sat down, looking nervously at his uncle.

"Harry, you thought much about what you're going to do for the Christmas holidays?"

"Er, no. I just assumed that I would stay here, or maybe go to…oh. OH!" Harry trailed off as he looked at his uncle.

"Would you like to spend the holidays with me?" The professor asked with a smile.

"Hell, yes! I mean, yes sir!" Harry and his uncle both laughed. "Are you not going to be here, Uncle?"

"Oh, no. I had planned to make a trip to my castle in Spain."

"Your castle in Spain. You have a castle in Spain," Harry said deadpan.

"Er, yes. In Catalonia. It's mostly a ruin, but I've been fixing it up slowly. It overlooks this quaint little valley in the Pyrenees. Very secluded."

"How in the name of Merlin did you buy a castle in Spain?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Oh, well, it was cheap, you know. Mostly ruin, and the old warlock who sold it to me couldn't keep it up any more. He was relocating, and just wanted to be rid of it." The professor shrugged.

"Wow." Harry sat silent for a moment. "Er, I haven't really talked about it with Draco, but do you think he could come along? I think Ivy has to go back to Malfoy Manor for the holidays, but he obviously can't. Ron is going to the Burrow of course, and Hermione's spending most of the holiday with her parents as well, and I'd hate for Draco to be stuck here alone the whole time."

"I don't think that will be a problem. We'll need to clear everything through Dumbledore of course."

"Right. Er, one other thing. Can we invite Sirius, too? I don't know where he is, but he has to stay in hiding, and I hate the thought of him spending Christmas alone."

Professor Marion looked uncomfortable again. "I don't know Harry. He doesn't know about me anymore, and we don't know how he'll get to the castle." Harry looked crestfallen. "Oh, don't look at me like that. I swear I spoil you rotten. Tell you what. We'll ask Dumbledore about that, and if it's OK with the old man, er the Headmaster, it's OK with me.

Harry looked up at his uncle, and his face broke into a grin. "Thanks, uncle!" The professor found himself enveloped in a bone-crushing hug before the raven-haired boy got up and headed for the Common Room. "I've got to tell Draco if he's back, and Ron and Hermione, and then go owl Sirius. This is going to be the best Christmas ever!"

Professor Marion hoped he could agree.


	16. En Route to Espana

Author's Note: Hello everyone! Hope you all are well. Here's the next chapter. Thanks to everyone who reads, and especially to those who review – I am always happy to hear people's thoughts on my work. I'm experimenting with changes of venue - so to speak - in this chapter. I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: Not mine, for fun only. rated K+. Neville Longbottom was not hurt in the creation of this work, but Draco walks a pretty fine line by making a scathing comment about Ivy's wardrobe. On with the show…

**Chapter 16 – En Route to Espana**

The next morning at breakfast Harry and Draco received letters in the post asking them to meet the Headmaster in his office after their last class of the day. Draco wasn't able to snatch any time to talk with Ivy, but they were able to communicate enough in their own unique way that she had received a similar summons. It was now just ten days or so until the winter break and Harry and Draco surmised that Harry's uncle had asked Dumbledore to meet with them all to discuss their holiday plans.

Harry didn't know when he had been as excited about the Christmas holiday as he was this year. Not only was he spending it with his uncle, but he hoped that his godfather would be there too. Having Draco along was a nice bonus, as was being at a castle in Spain. 'I certainly never thought I'd be happy about spending the holiday with Draco Malfoy.' Harry chuckled to himself as he arrived in front of the phoenix statue guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office.

Draco and Ivy arrived separately a couple of minutes later, and again Harry was amazed at how he could easily have mistaken them for twins had he not known better. Draco nodded coolly at Harry as they approached. Harry and Draco were friends, but for Draco, that was as touchy-feely as he would get in public. Ivy, on the other hand, squealed with delight at seeing Harry and ran up and gave him a hug. "Hi Harry!" she said effusively. Harry definitely liked Ivy's manner of greeting better even if it did always leave the black-haired boy feeling confused, and just a bit hot and bothered as well.

Shortly after, Professor Marion appeared, and not thirty seconds after that, the statue began to move to admit the four waiting people to their audience with the Headmaster.

Once everyone was seated in the comfortable chairs that Dumbledore conjured, and the Professor, Draco, and Harry had their cups of coffee - Ivy took tea - Dumbledore began by saying, "I believe it is time we discussed what plans each of you have for the holidays. Professor, why don't you tell us what you propose?"

Professor Marion glanced nervously at Ivy and then back at Dumbledore, who nodded. "Ah yes, I had quite forgotten. Miss Malfoy, we should probably bring you up to date on a few interesting developments." Ivy just looked bewildered, but since everyone else seemed to be more or less at ease, she didn't get too anxious. The Headmaster proceeded to explain to Ivy a little more of the Potter family history and the current situation. When he finished, Ivy was no longer bewildered, but she was completely dumbfounded. Ivy's Malfoy training kicked in quickly, and she regained her composure and turned to cast a withering glance at her brother, who began to fidget uncomfortably.

"Well, I'm certainly quite happy for Harry and Professor Marion, but you, brother dear, will have some explaining to do later." It appeared that Ivy was not happy with Draco for not divulging all of this to her.

Draco swallowed nervously, but said nothing. Ivy turned back to the Headmaster and smiled pleasantly, all trace of coolness toward her brother gone.

"Um, yes, well," Professor Marion interjected, "I'm sure the rest of us are glad we're not on the receiving end of Miss Malfoy's wrath." Everyone except Draco chuckled appreciatively. Draco crossed his arms and huffed. "Headmaster, I plan to spend the Christmas holidays at my castle in the Pyrenees. I believe you are familiar with it?" Dumbledore nodded. "I would like to take Harry with me for the duration, and though I don't think they've had the chance to discuss it, Harry has asked me if Draco could join us, given that he can't go to Malfoy Manor." Harry looked quite anxious at how the Headmaster would respond. Draco looked nonplussed, but did not say anything, as he and Harry had not in fact discussed this particular option.

"I see," Dumbledore said slowly, steepling his fingers on his desk as he pondered the request. He was silent for a minute or two, then he spoke again. "I suppose that would be acceptable. The castle is fairly well-protected, and I believe I can carve out some time over the next few days to pop over there and make a few enhancements." The old man winked. "However, you should know that Molly Weasley spoke to me via floo the other day and specifically invited Draco and Harry to spend the holidays at the Burrow. She also said she wanted you to join them as well, given that you were so far from your family."

"Ah," the young professor looked somewhat uncomfortable. "Well, er, I suppose that would be OK. We could spend a couple of weeks in Spain, then return to the Burrow for Christmas and the remainder of the holidays." Professor Marion chewed his lip as he thought for a moment further. "Yes, that could work out well, as I received a letter from my family in America the other day. They're planning to come to England over Christmas, and wanted to spend some time with us anyway. I'll just let them know to meet us at the Burrow." Professor Marion looked at Harry, who smiled.

"I'm going to meet my cousins from America? Wow."

Professor Marion nodded, "I just forgot to tell you the other day. Sorry."

Harry interrupted, "But what about Sirius? Headmaster, since we're going to be in such a secluded spot, can Sirius come see us?" Dumbledore looked at Harry for some moments before spending an equally long time looking at his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

"You are prepared to deal with all the implications of this, Brandon?" he asked in a low voice.

The professor took a deep breath, "Probably not, but I suppose it's better to deal with it now than to wait."

Professor Dumbledore nodded then smiled, "You really are a Potter, aren't you?" The two adults chuckled, while Harry, Draco, and Ivy just looked confused.

"I suppose that will all be just fine then." Dumbledore continued. "Miss Malfoy, how do you feel about having to return to Malfoy Manor for the holidays? I know that your last stay there was not pleasant."

Ivy answered in a surprisingly strong voice, but Draco could tell she was putting a brave face on things, and that she was really rather apprehensive. "Well, sir, I would much rather be going to Spain," she cast a coy smile at Harry, "or even to the Burrow, especially given everything I've just learned, but I'm a Malfoy, and if there is one thing we're good at, it's keeping up appearances. I think I can take care of myself over the holidays. Father thinks I'm his loyal daughter, and I'm good at maintaining that illusion."

Draco smiled warmly at his sister. She was made of sterner stuff than he had realized.

"Very well," Dumbledore said. "We will do our best to keep an eye on you. I think Harry here has a pocketwatch that will be able to assist in that." Harry nodded. "We'll see if we can't arrange for some safe method of communication for you as well."

Everyone seemed satisfied, and looked ready to leave. "There is one other thing," the Headmaster continued, almost as an afterthought. "Professor, you obviously won't be able to apparate to your castle, nor will I be able to give you a Portkey. The Ministry is being rather unreasonable about unregistered Portkeys these days, especially after the attack. I'm afraid your best bet for travel over Christmas will be to use whatever Muggle system you deem best. I do apologize."

The professor looked at Harry, who shrugged, and at Draco, who seemed to be struggling with whether to be mortified or disgusted. Professor Marion smiled evilly at Draco and then said, "That's quite all right, Headmaster. It just adds to the adventure."

* * *

Miles away, Lucius Malfoy was making yet another one of his dreaded visits to the Riddle mansion. The Dark Lord had been in an unholy rage ever since Lucius' failed attack on Hogwarts at Halloween. Lucius had been castigated severely, and when he felt his Mark burning, it took all of the intestinal fortitude he possessed not to panic. 

Lucius once again entered the room where audiences with the creature that was Voldemort took place. He noted with interest that only Wormtail was present. He assumed Nagini was out hunting somewhere.

"Ah, Lucius, my most trusted servant. Thank you for coming," Voldemort said in his fingernail-on-the-chalkboard voice after Lucius had paid proper homage.

"Of course, my Lord. I live only to serve you."

"You are more right than you know, Lucius. No matter. I have a new task for you. It has come to my attention, thanks to both your research and through my network of spies that the Dragon's Tear is most likely kept in Glastonbury Tor."

Lucius looked surprised at this information, but it made sense.

"I think, Lucius, you will visit Glastonbury Tor, and retrieve for me a certain item of interest. I do not particularly care about the how or when, but I must have the Dragon's Tear by the first of the new year."

"Yes, my Lord. What of Harry Potter and my own wayward son?"

"I have special plans for Mr. Potter, and I believe you will know best how to deal with Draco when the time comes. Which reminds me, we must figure out what to do about the unwelcome return of Brandon Potter. That was a particularly useful piece of information you brought me." Lucius nodded, but said nothing. Useful, indeed. The knowledge that Brandon Potter had mysteriously reappeared was the only thing that saved Lucius Malfoy from a slow and painful death when the Halloween raid failed.

"It has also come to my attention that Potter's distant American relations will be visiting England, and Glastonbury Tor in particular. Wouldn't it be terrible if something were to happen to them?" Voldemort chuckled quietly.

"Yes, my Lord. Terrible."

"Very well, Lucius. You may go, but do not fail me this time. I have never been known for my patience or my mercy."

Lucius Malfoy bowed, and quickly backed out of the room.

* * *

The last few days of the term passed quickly. Fred and George had been wreaking havoc with their new candy product, appropriately called, "Montezuma's Revenge." Students could be seen randomly making mad dashes for the toilets throughout the day. Draco had been kind enough to warn Harry to be leery of anyone offering him any kind of blue candy, and he was making a killing off his 30 share of the profits. This was a good thing, for since his disagreement with his father, he had not been given any kind of pocket money or allowance, and being a Malfoy was often an expensive proposition. 

The night before everyone was scheduled to leave for the holidays found the fourth-year Gryffindors frantically trying to pack their trunks for the trip to various and sundry places. The room was filled with phrases like "Neville, I found Trevor," and "Blimey, Ron, why are your shorts under my bed?" and "Where in the bloody hell is my copy of _Which Broomstick?"_

Down in the dungeons, Draco had snuck into his sister's room for a change, and they talked as she packed her things.

"Honestly, Draco, I'm not a little girl anymore. I can take care of myself. And this is Mum and Dad we're talking about. As long as he doesn't find out I'm spying I should be fine." Ivy was very exasperated with her brother, who was in his overprotective-big-brother mode.

"Yes, Ivy, but Father is not himself. Who knows what he's done to Mother, and what he'll to do you." Draco continued on an entirely different subject, "No, no, don't pack that set of robes. Those went out of fashion last year, and I'm surprised they even fit you."

Ivy turned around and looked at her brother, annoyed, "Don't you have enough stuff of your own to pack, big brother, without having to tell me what to pack as well?" Ivy hated it when Draco got overprotective, even if she did subconsciously appreciate it.

Draco shrugged, pretending not to notice his sister's exasperation. "I finished packing before dinner. Have you got your talkkey?"

"Yes, Drakey, it's right here." Ivy held up a silver brooch in the shape of a snake with rubies for eyes. The brooch had been charmed by Professor Flitwick to allow the wearer to talk to and hear another person with the correspondingly charmed object, which was the ring Draco wore on the little finger of his right hand.

"Good. You'll check in every day, right?" The blonde boy asked anxiously. He didn't even notice his sister's use of the forbidden nickname.

"DRACO, ENOUGH. I have to finish packing, and you are not helping. I know you're just worried about me, but leave it, okay? I'll be fine."

Draco started at his sister's vehemence, then smiled at his sister sheepishly. "Er, sorry sis. It's just that it's my job to worry about you, and I do it rather well." Draco stood and walked over to his sister. They hugged for a long moment. "In case I don't get the chance in the morning, I'll say goodbye now. Give Mum my love, and you be careful."

"I love you too, Drakey." Ivy knew it would be hard for her brother to come right out and say that he loved her, but understood what he was implying. "I'll talk to you tomorrow night once I get settled in."

Draco gave his sister one last squeeze, then snuck back to his room for the night.

* * *

As usual, getting everyone and everything on the Hogwarts Express for the trip back to London was an exercise in patience, ingenuity, and badgering. Dumbledore, in the interest of getting the students cleared out faster, had asked the house-elves to set up buffets in each common room. As usual, Draco was ready to go well in advance, and he made his way up to the Gryffindor common room to see what progress everyone else was making. He had become a regular sight in his rival house, and if everyone wasn't entirely thrilled to see the ex-Prince of Slytherin, they were at least used to his presence. To his credit, Draco had been cordial and polite to nearly everyone. He had even stopped harassing Neville Longbottom, who was still a bit jumpy around the blond boy. 

Draco entered the Common Room in a rather grumpy mood to find Hermione and Professor Marion seated at one of the tables, chatting idly. Draco made his way over to the table to join them, and the professor happened to look up as Draco crossed the room. The Slytherin wondered what the expression on his own face looked like, for as Professor Marion noticed him, the professor gave a start and quickly began pouring Draco a cup of coffee from the silver urn on the table. It was true Draco hadn't had any coffee yet, and was really in a bad mood, so coffee was a good thing.

"Morning," Draco said tersely as he sat down at the table and began nursing his coffee. "Thanks," he added as an afterthought.

Hermione was about ready to start in on Draco with a barrage of questions about his holiday plans, but Professor Marion caught her eye and shook his head almost imperceptibly. Hermione closed her mouth quickly.

Several minutes later, Draco looked up from his near empty cup of coffee, which was quickly refilled by the DADA professor. He still had a frown on his face. "Merlin's beard, this is going to be dreadful," he grumbled.

"What are you talking about, Draco?" Hermione asked, confused.

Draco made a face. "In the first place, we're having to sit here and bloody wait on everyone else to get their stuff packed." He looked around to where many students were running around the common room gathering up their things. Harry and Ron were nowhere to be seen, but Neville was looking for Trevor again, and it appeared that Dean Thomas was missing his dress robes. "Second, we've got to take bloody muggle transportation to Spain, and I've never really used muggle transportation except when we took the under-the-ground or whatever the hell you call it to King's Cross at the start of the term." Draco gestured vaguely with his hands in frustration. "Third, and most important, this coffee is absolutely abysmal."

"Well, you're right about that," Professor Marion laughed. Draco grumbled into his coffee some more, then his curiosity got the better of him. "How are we getting to Spain anyway? I don't speak a word of Spanish, you know," he said, glaring at Professor Marion as if everything, particularly the Spaniards poor choice of language, were the young professor's fault.

Professor Marion laughed again, a fact which made Draco's expression seem even more sour. "I'll see if I can conjure you some fresh coffee," he tapped the side of the urn with his wand and continued, "Try that, and see what you think." He poured Draco a fresh cup.

The blonde boy sipped at the hot liquid cautiously, and found it much more to his liking. "Mmmm….much better." His expression suddenly turned much less sour.

Professor Marion winked at Hermione, who was looking suspiciously at the professor, and said with an amused expression, "You're welcome. Amazing what a little bit of Cheering Charm will do, isn't it?" Draco tried his best to look affronted, but the very effective charm prevented it.

"Anyway," the professor continued as Hermione stifled a laugh, "After we get to King's Cross, we'll just transfer to Heathrow via the 'whatever the hell you call it' as you so eloquently stated, then we have to fly to Madrid where we'll spend the night. The next day, we'll pick up my car and drive to the castle. We should arrive sometime tomorrow afternoon."

"Fly? As in on a broom? I've already packed my Nimbus. Why didn't someone tell me? And what in the name of Merlin's beard does a heathrow have to do with getting to Spain?" Draco asked irritably, though not nearly as irritably as in his pre-coffee state.

"No, Draco, you'll be flying on an airplane. Heathrow is the name of the airport outside London where all the airplanes fly into and out of," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. Then she frowned, "But how is that going to work, I mean with tickets and identification and all that muggle stuff?"

Before Professor Marion had a chance to answer, Harry and Ron came flying down the stairs and over to the table. "All ready to go," Harry said happily, as he piled food on his plate.

Draco looked at the mounds of eggs and bacon on Harry's plate with disgust, "About bloody time, too. What does an airplane look like? How does all this work?" Draco was starting to get anxious about having to navigate his way through the muggle world.

"Airplane?" Harry asked, "Are we flying to Spain? Brilliant! I've never been on a plane before! Oh, and can I have some coffee, please? You didn't use all the cream and sugar did you, Draco?" Harry asked the blond boy suspiciously.

Draco grudgingly handed the cream and sugar to Harry, and with a glare at Harry's uncle said, "You might be careful with the coffee, it's been 'doctored' and I don't think we need you any more cheerful than you already are." Under his breath he added, "Bloody Gryffindor."

Professor Marion smiled at his nephew, and tapped the urn with his wand again. "Don't worry about it Harry. Let's just say that Draco was rather, er, dragon-ish earlier, if you'll forgive the pun, and I put a bit of a Cheering Charm on the coffee to help him out a bit." Everyone laughed except Draco who seemed to be getting grumpy again.

"At any rate," the professor continued, "I guess you would describe an airplane as kind of like a big flying bird made out of metal. People sit inside, and it flies very fast. Professor Dumbledore was able to get me tickets and identification for you Draco. Harry and I already have muggle identification records, as Harry grew up in the muggle world, and I've traveled enough to realize the advantage of not seeming to be a wizard on occasion." The professor fished in his robes, and handed a plastic card to Draco. "This is an identification card, or ID card for short. It basically is a government picture card that says who you are, and a bunch of other muggle stuff like that. Hold on to it. Harry, your national ID card you got when you were at the Dursleys should be fine for this trip, since we're staying in the European Union. I'll hold on to the tickets till we're at the airport."

Draco looked at his identification card interestedly, "Do you have one of these, professor?"

Professor Marion dug in his pockets again. "No, I don't Draco. Technically, I'm a British citizen since I was born here, but I was raised as a wizard, and as you know, we don't really bother with things like identification cards, so I don't have anything proving my citizenship." He laid an identification card and a small blue booklet on the table for everyone to see. The card said "Kentucky Driver's License" and had a picture of a slightly younger and thinner Professor Marion. The blue booklet said "United States of America" had the official seal of the US State Department, then said "Passport" underneath the seal.

Everyone passed around the documents as Professor Marion explained, "I'm also a US citizen, and in the US, identification cards are usually issued by the individual states, and they're called driver's licenses because they allow us to drive a car. The passport is what I need as an American citizen to enter and leave foreign countries, like Spain – or Britain."

"I still don't see why people have to have identification, and why they can't just come and go as they please," Draco said.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it. Just hold on to your ID, follow my lead, and you'll be fine."

"Wait till my Dad hears you got to fly in a plane. He'll go mental!" Ron added. Draco looked less-than-excited about his upcoming adventure in the muggle world.

* * *

Shortly after breakfast, everyone made their way to the Hogwarts Express, and shortly after that, the train was underway, headed south for London. The train ride passed slowly, if uneventfully. It was some matter of curiosity to the students why both Draco Malfoy and Professor Marion were sitting with the Golden Trio in apparent peace. They assumed it was because of the professor's presence – Harry and Draco were known to be his best students, and there was some rumor they were going to help the professor conduct some research over the holiday. This was a rumor that Dumbledore had not tried to discourage; it allowed anyone who was asked to explain with some verisimilitude the reason for Draco's not returning to Malfoy Manor, and Harry's not staying at Hogwarts or going to the Burrow, plus it also helped avoid the question of why Harry and Draco continued to be so friendly. 

The train arrived at King's Cross, and Harry, Draco, and Professor Marion collected their things. The professor had suggested they use duffle bags and suitcases rather than the typical Hogwarts trunks, as they be would less conspicuous. The three of them also looked rather out of place in muggle clothes. Professor Marion was wearing a button-down long-sleeve dress shirt with khaki slacks and loafers, and a thick overcoat while Harry was dressed in sneakers, baggy jeans and a t-shirt underneath a sweater Mrs. Weasley had knitted for him, along with a matching toboggan. Draco felt absolutely scandalized to be wearing muggle clothing. He had been forced to borrow some from Harry and he knew he looked dreadful in a pair of Harry's tan cargo pants with a hooded "University of Kentucky" sweatshirt Harry had gotten from his uncle. Draco had never worn tennis shoes in his life, and found them surprisingly comfortable, even if he would never admit it.

Everyone said their goodbyes and made ready to leave when Draco piped up, "Who's carrying our trunks to the airport-thingy?" Harry and his uncle, who were walking next to each other ('Boy they look a lot alike from the back,' Draco thought.) both stopped and turned to look back at Draco who was standing next to his luggage with his arms crossed. Harry rolled his eyes, while his uncle just looked amused.

"We do, Draco. Just consider it an education in how the less-privileged live." Harry snickered at the look on Draco's face, and wished for the first time in his life that Colin Creevey had been there with his camera to take a picture.

"What?" Draco exclaimed. Then, glowering at the two Potters, he grabbed his luggage and stalked past them, grumbling about the indignity of it all. Draco continued to grumble all the way to the underground. Once they arrived there, Harry and his uncle were able to negotiate the ticket machines and turnstiles with no problems. Draco, however, had to swallow his pride and ask for help. He was neither used to muggle money nor having to manhandle luggage. They soon found the proper train, and boarded the rather crowded car. They had decided it would be best to not talk much on the Underground, as it would be painfully obvious to anyone that Draco was either an idiot, or not entirely what he seemed, having been on the underground only once before.

The Hogwarts Express left around 10am, depositing them at King's Cross about 2 in the afternoon. By the time they got to Heathrow Airport it was 4 o'clock. Their plane left at 6pm, which left them just enough time to check luggage and get through security to the gate. The trio came up out of the underground into the terminal. Professor Marion had to herd the two teenagers along, as they were both gawking at anything and everything. Harry was at least used to airplanes and such, but Draco had never seen anything like it.

They stood there for several moments taking in the huge gallery of the terminal, the people milling around, the long queues of travelers. "Wow," Draco said. Just then a huge roar seemed to erupt out of nowhere. The windows rattled and the ground shook. The noise was deafening. Draco looked around frightened and before he could stop himself yelled, "Hit the deck!" Suddenly, the hundreds of people in the terminal all dove for the ground, tense and waiting for the worst. Nothing happened. Slowly, the travelers got to their feet, looking around for who had caused the alarm.

Harry yanked Draco off the floor and hissed in his ear, "Honestly Draco, it was just a plane taking off. Now look around confused like you're trying to find who yelled out too, and come on!" Harry dragged the blonde boy off by his arm, the luggage trailing along behind.

Professor Marion looked none too pleased as well. "I know this is all new to you Draco, but try to be a little more circumspect, OK? Everything will be fine." Draco nodded, but he was slightly perturbed. How was he supposed to know that was what sound a plane made when it was taking off. He wondered if he really wanted to be in a plane if it sounded like that.

They headed for the British Air check-in counter, and since the two boys were minors, they all checked in together. The lady behind the counter asked to see their tickets and IDs, then took their luggage and placed it on a conveyor belt, where it disappeared into the wall behind the counter. Draco wanted to ask where the luggage was going, and why the lady had tagged it, but felt it would be best to keep his mouth shut for the time being. They were done in short order, and Professor Marion guided the two boys toward security.

"I'll hang on to your tickets and boarding passes. We're going to go through security now, and you'll have to empty your pockets and take off your ring, Draco," the young professor said quietly as they walked. None of them had any carry-on luggage. Harry and Draco had instructed their owls where they were headed and to meet them there as soon as they could. Professor Marion had left Dexter to fend for himself at Hogwarts. The professor was carrying a muggle newspaper under his arm, but that was it.

"Security? What kind of security? Are they going to have trolls search us or something? Or is it nifflers, since we have to take off all the metal stuff? And where did our luggage go?" Draco hated not knowing what was going on.

Professor Marion was trying hard not to get exasperated with the boy. "They sent our luggage down to be put on the plane. There are no trolls at security, nor are there nifflers. You'll walk through a doorway-looking thing that makes sure you don't have anything that could be used as a bomb on your person, and then we'll go to the gate. We can talk more about everything then."

"A bomb!" Draco exclaimed. People started looking around frantically.

"Shhh!" Professor Marion and Harry both shushed Draco. "Don't ever say that word loudly in an airport if you want to live long," Harry added harshly. "Honestly, even I know that much."

Draco assumed a sour expression again, and grumbled all the way through security, which thankfully assured them that Draco was not carrying a bomb. Once they were at the gate, Draco came out of his dark mood enough to begin asking questions again. "Where's the plane?"

The plane had not yet appeared at their gate, so Professor Marion explained how they would walk through the door and down the jet bridge to the plane once it arrived.

"It's pretty amazing what these muggles come up with to get around the fact that they don't have magic, even if it is all buggered up, if you ask my opinion." Harry and his uncle nodded in agreement, though they were clearly much more comfortable in the muggle world than Draco. The three travelers continued to talk for a bit – Professor Marion was trying to describe what his castle was like, when all of a sudden they heard a rumbling that was louder than any they'd heard previously.

"I think our plane is arriving," Harry interjected.

Draco turned to watch, and it was quickly apparent that the blonde wizard-in-training didn't know what to think. He had never seen anything like it. "How in the name of the Broomstick Bazaar does that thing get in the air? And why is it so loud?"

"Do you see those huge cylindrical things hanging down on each side of the wing?" Draco nodded in response. "They push the plane through the air." Professor Marion went on to explain how a plane worked. Harry was interested to hear the discussion as well. He knew about planes, but hadn't ever flown either, and was quite excited.

Draco was not. "I'm not sure I want to get on that thing. How long will it take us to fly to Madrid?"

"Oh, just under two hours," Professor Marion said nonchalantly.

"Two hours! It's got to be 800 miles."

"At least. These planes move pretty fast."

Draco sat there, just looking at the plane until it was time to board. This particular plane was a relatively small one, as it only had a center aisle with seats on each side rather than two aisles and a center section. The three travelers found their seats and got situated. Harry and Draco got in a bit of a spat by arguing over who got to sit next to the window, until Harry's uncle made him let Draco sit by the window. "You can have the window seat on the return trip, Harry."

Everything went smoothly until it was time to take off, then both Harry and Draco turned rather pale from fright, and then green from motion sickness. Professor Marion, still looking annoyed, handed them each a barf bag, just in case. Once they were airborne, everything settled down, including the two teenager's stomachs, and pretty quickly, Harry and Draco were bored and dropped off to sleep, Harry's head resting on his uncle's shoulder, Draco leaning against Harry, a fact which the professor found oddly amusing.

Everything was fine until they began to land, and then Draco and Harry both were afraid they were going to fall out of the sky. Draco hastily shut the window shade when he saw how quickly the ground was approaching. Draco didn't realize that he had subconsciously grabbed Harry's hand and was squeezing with all his might. Harry didn't notice either, as he had grabbed for Draco's hand and his uncle's at the same time, and was also doing his best imitation of the Vulcan death-grip.

They landed safely, of course, and both Harry and Draco let out a long relieved breath, then they realized they were hanging on to each other for dear life, and they let go of each other's hands hastily, groaning and wiping their hands on their pants. Harry's uncle just laughed. They exited the plane, and headed down the jetway and through passport control before claiming their luggage.

"Now what?" Harry asked with a yawn. Draco was grumbling about having to carry his own luggage again.

"Now we hop on the subway, and go to the hotel for the night."

"Is this a muggle hotel, or a wizard hotel?" Draco asked, praying the answer would be to his liking. It wasn't.

"A muggle hotel, but the owner and manager are both good friends of mine. They hold an apartment in reserve for me. It's more of a long-term hotel, and keep an eye on my car for me as well."

"Uncle Brandon, how is it that you can afford to keep an apartment in Madrid, a castle in Catalonia, and you bought a place in the States? Does Hogwarts pay that well?"

The professor looked down at his nephew and seemed slightly embarrassed about the subject of money. He risked a glance at Draco, who was also listening intently. "Well, it's like this Harry, when my parents died, everything they had was split between your father and me. When your parents were killed, everything they had money-wise was left to you, which included half of my parents estate. That's where most of the money in your vault came from. Oddly enough, your parents left Godric's Hollow to me. I'm not entirely sure why, and it's not really important. I drew a decent salary from being an Auror in the States, and from Hogwarts, but you're right it's not enough to support my lifestyle so to speak. With the money that my parents left me, I made some wise investments – in both the muggle world and the wizarding world, as well as received some nice honorariums from the muggle government of the United States for special assistance I've rendered here and there. Now, I mostly just work because I like having something to do, and the Hogwarts job keeps my summers free to research and explore."

"Oh. Er, this may not be the best time to talk about it, but I guess I should ask you about what do with my share of your parent's money. I hate for it to just sit there in the vault not doing anything."

"We can talk about that. I'm sure Draco would like to share his opinion, too, given that he's undoubtedly been trained from a very young age to manage a large estate." Professor Marion nodded at Draco, who looked both impressed that the professor had been so diligent with his money, and gratified that he had been acknowledged as having some knowledge on the subject in question.

Another subway ride (it was called the Metro in Madrid) and an hour later found the three tired travelers standing outside the Hotel Molina on the west side of Madrid in what appeared to be a typical middle-class urban neighborhood. Draco couldn't help but be slightly disappointed. The hotel didn't look like much from the outside.

The trio entered, and Draco was surprised to discover that the inside of the hotel was completely different from the unassuming exterior. The lobby was done in marble, and the furnishings looked quite modern, with a bit of an African flavor. Brandon Marion walked up to the desk and began talking in rapid-fire Spanish to the concierge. It was apparent to Harry that they were good friends.

"Harry, Draco, I want you to meet my good friend Enrique. He's the evening clerk." Harry and Draco said hello to Enrique, who spoke acceptable English. Professor Marion then resumed the conversation in Spanish, while Harry and Draco wandered interestedly around the lobby. Not too many moments later, the professor beckoned the two boys to the elevator, and they rode up to the sixth floor, which happened to be the top floor.

They exited the elevator and stopped in front of room 604. The professor inserted the key in the lock and opened the door. The room was not a typical hotel room. It was in fact like a studio apartment, with a small kitchenette, a sitting area, including a small round table. The next room was the bedroom which had two twin beds pushed together and a spacious bathroom, again done in marble. Here and there were little artifacts from Professor Marion's various expeditions, as well as several pictures of his American relations.

"Not too shabby," Draco said.

"Now, I'm normally here by myself, but since you two are here, I'll sleep on the couch, and you two can have a bed each."

Harry started to protest, but the professor put up a hand to stop him. "I'll hear no protest. When I'm out on an expedition, I often sleep on the ground in a tent. A sleeper sofa for one night won't kill me." Harry shrugged, and then went to check the facilities.

It was fairly late, and by the time Harry finished in the bathroom and Draco took his turn, Harry was amused to see his uncle already asleep on the sofa. Harry tiptoed over and turned out the lamp, whispering, "Good night uncle." By the time Draco was finished in the bathroom, Harry too was asleep.

* * *

They awoke early the next morning, mostly because of Harry's uncle singing loudly in the shower. 

"Merlin, he's worse than the Fat Lady," Harry said irritably.

"Too right. Can't you shut him up?"

Harry, in fact, could not shut the professor up.

Some time later they went down to the bar for breakfast – toasted croissants with jelly and butter, and strong Spanish coffee. Draco was in love.

"This coffee almost makes up for having to listen to you sing, Professor."

Harry snorted into his own cup of coffee, while the professor blushed. After breakfast they returned to the room, and then lugged their things down to the garage, which was in the basement of the hotel.

"Where's your car, uncle?" Harry asked.

"Over there in the corner." Professor Marion pointed to the dankest, darkest part of the garage. "The keys should be in it." The two teenagers mouths' dropped at the site of the professor's car. It was an old BMW sedan. At one point it must have been something resembling a blue color, but the paint had faded and was peeling in places.

Professor Marion noted the looks on the boy's faces with amusement. "Don't worry, boys, it looks awful, but it's like my broom – appearances can be deceiving." Harry and Draco both shot a glance at the professor, who was grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

They loaded the luggage into the trunk, and got situated. Harry had to explain to Draco about seat belts, and why he had to wear his. Unlike the Weasley's Ford Anglia, Professor Marion's BMW had not been magically enhanced in the space department. Still, Harry thought it surprisingly roomy and comfortable if a bit worn.

Then the professor started the engine, which to the boys' surprise, started instantly and settled into a rumbling idle. "Er, Uncle," Harry said nervously, "when you said that it was like your broom, did you mean that it had been um, modified?"

Harry's uncle nodded, still grinning, and put the car into gear. They nosed out of the garage and into traffic. Several very scary moments later, they were hurtling along the M30, or inner ring road around Madrid, skirting the south side of the city before they looped around for the long drive to the northeast.

Professor Marion was back in his teacher mode. "On the left is the soccer, er, football stadium. It seats 60,000 people, and they have quidditch matches there, too, though the muggles obviously don't know about that." The professor continued his commentary until they were well out of Madrid, the car purring along happily at a speed well north of 100mph.

"So, what did you do to the car, Uncle?" Harry asked. His uncle was right, the car was far more impressive than it looked.

"Actually, I didn't use any magic on the car at all. It's all muggle mechanics and engineering. I'd explain it but I don't think it would make any sense."

They continued on in silence. Toward midday, they stopped in the town of Soria for lunch – just a snack really. Draco, who had fallen asleep shortly after leaving Madrid rushed out of the car to find the restroom. The three cups of coffee had caught up with him. After a leisurely lunch, and a stop for gasoline, they continued on their way.

Three in the afternoon found the three travelers headed north out of Lerida. The landscape began to change from the rolling plains of Castilla to the more mountainous terrain of Aragon and Catalunya. It wasn't long before they were climbing, and Harry and Draco took great delight in pointing out the snow on the high peaks, which were marching ever closer.

"This area was never really conquered by the moors when they invaded Spain in the 8th century, and you can see why. We're getting fairly close to the castle."

"Where is the castle, exactly, professor?" Draco asked.

"Well, the road we're on continues over into France, but we'll make a left turn at the town of Bielsa right before you get to the tunnel that leads under the mountain and into France. We'll then continue up this little side valley for another 6 miles or so until we get to the head of the valley. That's where the castle is."

It was just as the professor said. They turned off the main road (which was a rather generous description, Harry thought) at Bielsa, an ancient little village of some two hundred people, and found themselves in a narrow valley surrounded on both sides by mountain walls. A small streambed ran through the valley, meandering here and there. There was little water in the stream this time of year, as most of the water was still in the form of snow on the mountains, and at this elevation, on the ground as well. Fortunately, the road was clear. They wound their way up the valley past a frozen lake, the mountain peaks like sentinels.

Suddenly, the car rounded a bend in the road, and Harry saw the most amazing sight. The valley ended abruptly in a wall of mountain, and there perched on one of the shoulders of the mountain with the stream running below was the ruin of a medieval castle. The wall was in ruins, but the keep and the great hall appeared to be standing, and more or less sound.

They pulled the car directly into the courtyard and parked it under an awning. "Well, it's not much yet, but I'm making progress."

Harry looked at his uncle. "It's the most amazing thing I've ever seen!" Draco nodded in agreement.

"Let's have a look around," Professor Marion said. They spent the next hour exploring the grounds. Professor Marion explained that if you followed the path by the river, you began to climb the mountain, and would find yourself in an alpine meadow some 2 miles long. "The far end of that meadow is in France. Here we're at about 5,000 feet. The meadow is at 8,000, and these peaks all around us are between 10,000 and 11,000."

By this time, they were thoroughly chilled, so they went inside the castle for the first time. Unlike the outside, the inside of the castle had been renovated and decorated in the style that it would have been originally when the castle was built. A great fire was blazing magically in the fireplace.

The three travelers spent the next few hours wandering through the castle, but never lingering long enough in one place to get a real feel for the place, just a general idea. They brought their luggage in and got settled into their rooms before sitting down to a light dinner. Darkness comes early in the mountains, and with the better part of two days travel behind them, Harry, Draco, and Professor Marion were feeling rather tired, and so went to bed early.

"It is good to be home," thought both the elder and younger Potter as they drifted off to sleep, one returning home after a long absence, the other having discovered what it was like to have a home – other than Hogwarts - for the very first time.

* * *

Supplemental Note: The places mentioned in this chapter are more-or-less real and descriptions are relatively accurate, as best I can recall. The Hotel Molina is modeled after the hotel where I spent summers growing up in Madrid. The valley outside of Bielsa and Bielsa itself are real places, and are some of my favorite places to spend time. There is no castle in the valley, but I've modeled the castle as a hybrid of the castle in Cardona, Spain and the ruin of a castle I stumbled across in a town I can't recall the name of at the moment. I can probably get pictures if anyone is interested. Just drop me a line. Thanks again for reading. -TM 


	17. Secrets and Revelations

**Hello everyone.** Here's the next Chapter for your enjoyment. Thanks for reading, and as always special thanks to those who review. PlatoDan has been gracious enough to make suggestions for bringing more of the 'minor' characters into the story, and I hope to work those in over the next several chapters. You should check out his work on this site as well. Just do a search for his penname.

Warning: Not mine, Rated K, just for fun. No animagi were harmed in creation of this work, but Draco gets potty-mouthed again, mostly because Harry turns out to be better at driving a standard shift car than him. Enjoy…

**Chapter 17 – Secrets and Revelations**

Harry awoke the next morning to a general brightness in his room rather than direct sunlight through a window. He supposed this made sense to his fuzzy-from-sleep brain as the valley walls were so high it would have to be rather late for sunlight to be entering his room directly.

The dark-haired Gryffindor reached over to the nightstand to retrieve his glasses, and as the room came in to focus, he considered his surroundings. Harry had really been too tired to pay much attention to the décor the previous evening, but as he looked around, he realized how this room – and the rest of the castle – was similar to Hogwarts. Perhaps that was why he had immediately felt so at home here.

As Professor Marion had indicated, much of the castle had been in ruins when he purchased it. In fact, only the two guest bedrooms in use by Harry and Draco, the master suite occupied by the professor, the keep, and the great hall and surrounding rooms were hospitable. All of the rooms in the outer wall, which was partly in ruins, the smaller hall of the castle, and the church and cloister had yet to be renovated, as did the stable, and several lookout-posts scattered around the valley.

Harry's room was comfortable, if not opulent. Unlike his bed at Hogwarts, the bed in this room was not a four-poster. Rather, it was canopied, and appeared to be quite old. The floor was stone, which was worn and smooth in places from centuries of feet treading back and forth. There was a large rug underneath the bed – it appeared to be Persian, and Harry was quite grateful for it when he got out of bed. He could just imagine how cold the flagstones were this time of year. In the corner of the room opposite the bed was a fireplace, and a quick spell lit the fire in the grate to warm the room. The other wall housed an oversized dresser, and Harry was interested to note that the Professor had chosen to update slightly by replacing the torch holders with sconces and electric lights.

Harry had his own bathroom – it was rather small. Harry was certain at one time it had been a whatever-they-called-the-bathroom-in-old-castles-before-there-was-plumbing. It too had been updated and now contained a sink, toilet, and shower stall. As the bathroom had no door, Harry was provided with a free-standing screen that could be moved to cover the archway to the bathroom, or simply to provide privacy for changing clothes.

The only natural light that entered the room came from the one window set into the wall. In its defense, the window was nearly full-length, and opened onto a small balcony. The walls of the castle appeared to be several feet thick, and while this kept things cool in the summer, it kept things freezing in the winter. Tapestries (Harry wondered if they were Flemish) concerned mostly with scenes of battle that covered most of the bare space on the walls did little to insulate from the cold, though they did a better job of quieting echoes of sound.

Harry stood for a moment at the edge of the rug, contemplating both his bare feet and the stone floor beyond. Grimacing, he gingerly touched his big toe to the nearest uncovered flagstone, and jumped back suddenly. That floor was frigid! Grumbling, Harry rooted around in his bag, which he had hastily shoved under the bed last night, and found his house shoes. He then made his way to the window, and stepped out on the balcony.

The view was as breathtaking as the coldness of the morning air. The castle was in fact at the head of the valley – less than half a mile to his right the valley wall rose in a tall peak, entirely snow-covered. Harry could look across the valley floor, which was partially cleared, but still mostly forested, to another line of mountains. Harry looked to his left and his eyes followed the stream bed down the valley, the ridgeline fading into the distance, well beyond the village of Bielsa, which was hidden from sight. Harry could see that the stream, when in full flood, must be rather large, as in some places the streambed was nearly the width of the valley. He could also see many places on the sides of the cliffs surrounding the valley where, as Spring came late to the mountains, seasonal cataracts of water had clearly flowed from the snowmelt for thousands upon thousands of years, judging by the marks of erosion in the stone. He wondered how large the waterfall by the castle was where the stream came rushing down from the meadow some 3,000 feet above.

Continuing to survey the valley, Harry marveled at its serenity. He turned a little further to the left, and gave a bit of a jump. Draco had stepped out on his balcony, and appeared to be surveying as well. 'How long has he been there?' Harry thought.

The blonde boy had been looking in Harry's direction, wondering when the typically clueless Gryffindor would realize someone else was present. Thus, when Harry gave an embarrassed wave, Draco snickered and returned the gesture. 'He looks happier than I've seen him in a long time – really happy, not 'pretending to be happy because I should be' happy. In fact, I wonder if he's ever been this happy, at least since I've known him,' Harry mused, glad that his new friend, in spite of his personal difficulties, appeared to be somewhat at peace with the world.

Harry thought it might be logical to actually say something to the blond wizard, but there was something…comfortable in the cold and quiet of the early morning, and Harry didn't want to destroy that. Unfortunately, his uncle took care of that for him. "Oi, you brats! Hurry up and get your lazy bums in here or your breakfast will be cold." The professor had managed to magically amplify his voice and project it so that it sounded like it was coming from all around. Of course, the fact that it was echoing off the valley walls seem to help a bit as well.

Harry and Draco exchanged an amused glance and a shrug, and then they both headed inside and down to find where breakfast was being served. Breakfast was in fact being served in the great hall, as Harry and Draco discovered some ten minutes later. Even with the castle mostly in ruins, they had still managed to get lost.

The great hall, again, was not unlike the one at Hogwarts, though on a smaller scale. It clearly had served as a throne room at one time, as it had a dais at one end. The other end had several doorways leading to various hallways, kitchens, and other passages. Tall narrow windows lined either side, excepting where space was made for fireplaces in the middle of each wall. The majority of the room was empty currently, including the dais. Harry's uncle had placed a relatively small table (it looked as if it could seat eight comfortably) at the end near the kitchens. The floor near the dais was covered in yet another rug. Tapestries hung on the walls here as well, though these looked like they needed to be cleaned and restored, and were of a different style than those in Harry's bedroom, seeming to be more concerned with life at a royal court. Harry wondered if they depicted life at this particular castle.

Professor Marion greeted them in mock severity, his arms crossed on his chest. "I was just about to come looking for you two loafers." The mirth in his voice belied his words.

"Well, if someone had given us a bloody map," Draco huffed as he sat down. Harry and his uncle both raised their eyes at Draco's abruptness with the professor. They traded a glance and shrugged, and joined Draco sitting at the table.

"I'm going to take it as a reflection of your comfort level with me, and therefore, as a compliment that you would speak in such a manner to a professor," Harry's uncle said somewhat coldly, casting a withering look at the blond boy, who had poured himself coffee and was glaring into the coffee cup.

Draco looked up, still glaring, and realized exactly how terse he'd been. "Er, sorry, professor. Guess I shouldn't trust myself to speak until I've had at least some coffee." He gave the professor a lopsided grin. Harry snorted in amusement.

They breakfasted mostly in silence. Draco, still feeling a bit self-conscious after biting the professor's head off, excused himself quickly to go shower and change. This afforded Harry and his uncle some time alone.

"How are the arrangements coming? Have you heard anything?" Harry asked in a low voice as his uncle poured them both some more coffee.

"I received an owl from Molly Weasley this morning," Harry's uncle said in an equally low voice. "Er, Harry, I have to tell you," the professor looked distinctly uncomfortable for a moment, "I'm rather nervous about meeting them again. They won't remember who I am, of course, but if it somehow comes out….well, I'm just not sure I'm ready to face my old life yet. There are too many memories." The professor's eyes glistened as his voice wavered.

Harry nodded, but said nothing. He knew what it was like to have painful memories, but he wasn't really sure what his uncle was dealing with. It was one thing to have lived a horrible childhood and then to discover that you were the most famous wizard currently alive, and to feel resentment at being mistreated for so long. It was quite another thing altogether to be taken away from everything you've known and forced to forget only to have that forgotten life come crashing back to you, except that now most of your family is dead. Harry thought his uncle was holding up remarkably well.

Of course, such thoughts made Harry logically think of Sirius and what Lucius Malfoy had said during the Halloween attack. Harry decided the former subject might be safe, but not the latter, at least not at the moment.

"Uncle, I had a letter from Sirius. He should be arriving tomorrow," Harry said happily. The dark-haired boy was surprised to see a shadow pass over his uncle's face.

"He's another ghost from the past that will be very hard to meet, Harry." Brandon Marion smiled sadly at his nephew.

"Are you going to let him know who you really are?"

"I don't think so, at least not initially," the professor answered – a little too quickly. He tried not to notice the disappointment in his nephew's eyes. "We were quite close, you know. Even when your Dad was dreadful to me, Sirius was always kind. It will be painful, and I'm just not ready for that…yet."

Harry nodded again. Suddenly, as if coming out of a funk, the professor clapped his hands. "Well, back to the task at hand. Molly Weasley assures me the preparations are coming along nicely. She's not really sure what to cook or serve. Between you and me, you know the Weasleys can't afford to do much, so I sent her some funds to cover expenses."

They were talking about Draco's birthday party, of course. It was supposed to be a surprise, and all of Draco's new friends had been planning in secret for quite some time. Draco's birthday coincided with the winter solstice, December 22. They were planning a bit of a shindig at the Burrow. "I guarantee he'll never have had a party like this one," Ron had said somewhat dubiously one evening at Hogwarts when he and Hermione were off by themselves.

"Hermione owled me as well. The guest list is coming along nicely. Most of Gryffindor house has agreed to be there, surprisingly, and will floo in. The only one attending from Slytherin will be Professor Snape though." Harry frowned.

Professor Marion patted his nephew on the knee. "I know you don't like him, Harry, but your Dad was pretty awful to him, and you haven't been much better frankly. Not that he doesn't deserve it, mind you. I was never a Marauder officially, but maybe we can come up with something to teach the old git a lesson."

Harry smiled in response. "OK, but no telling Draco, he'll pitch a hissy fit."

Professor Marion looked amused at the mental image of Draco pitching a hissy fit. "Right. What about the rest of the guests?"

Harry shrugged, "Hermione said she hadn't received much response from students in the other houses. Not surprising, really."

They continued to chat amiably for a few more minutes before Harry went upstairs to get cleaned up. In the meantime, Professor Marion walked out to check on the car. He had noted it hadn't quite seemed up to par the day before. He popped the hood, and grabbed some tools out of the trunk, and began poking and fiddling under the hood.

Some minutes later, Draco wandered out of the castle into the courtyard, wondering where everyone was. "Oh, hello professor," he said politely.

Professor Marion, having been startled, jumped and banged his head on the underside of the hood, which caused him to drop a rather heavy hammer on his foot. "Son of a bit…goat-legged banshee," he cursed.

"Sorry," Draco said quickly, trying not to laugh.

The professor rubbed the back of his head and wiggled his toes. "It's quite all right. I should know better than to let people sneak up on me like that."

"Er, what are you doing professor?"

"I was just fiddling with the car a bit, I noticed a bit of a miss yesterday and am trying to determine if it was ignition or fuel delivery problems."

Draco just looked at the professor like he was from another planet.

"Sorry…why don't I back up a bit and start over…" The professor launched into an explanation of how a car worked, and specifically what a motor was and how it made the car move. He was still talking animatedly a half-hour later when Harry showed up looking for everyone.

"Hello? There you are!"

This time it was Draco who banged his head on the underside of the hood. "Bloody hell, Potter! Can't you ever make an unobtrusive entrance?"

"Er…sorry…what are you doing anyway?"

"Draco, why don't you explain?"

The blond boy nodded and launched into a surprisingly accurate diatribe about automotive engineering. By lunchtime, the professor had two teenage wizards who were very keen to learn to drive a muggle car on his hands.

"Honestly, you're worse than Brent and Jason." Harry and Draco looked confused. "They're your cousins from America, Harry. I'm not teaching you to drive right now. You're still technically too young and there's too much snow on the ground. Oi! It's fairly warm today, let's pack a lunch and hike up to the meadow. What do you say?"

The boys looked disappointed, but agreed just the same. "How old were you when you learned to drive, uncle?" Harry asked innocently as they made sandwiches in the kitchen.

"Never mind that. It was different." The professor said tersely, focusing keenly on his sandwich. Draco snorted.

The hike up to the meadow proved to be quite a chore, as they were more or less climbing the wooded side of the mountain which was also rather snow-covered. They ended up stopping on a large rock halfway up to eat lunch rather than waiting till they got to the top. After lounging for a bit in the weak winter sun, they continued the arduous climb.

It was worth the effort when they finally made it to the meadow. Harry didn't know when he'd seen a place so beautiful, and so untouched by humans. "You should see it in the spring," Professor Marion said happily.

Like in the valley below, the stream ran the length of the meadow, but it was merely a trickle this time of year. The trio had climbed into the meadow from the south end, where the stream began its steep descent to run around the base of the castle below and down the main valley. The meadow appeared to be mostly flat, and a quarter-mile wide.

"Look at the little waterfall," Harry said pointing at a tiny trickle of water running down the side of the mountain at the other end of the meadow.

"The distance is deceiving, Harry. That waterfall is 200 feet high, and when it's in flood, you can hear the rushing water all the way here."

"Oh. How far is it to the other end?"

"I would guess between three and four kilometers. It's a brisk 25 minute walk"

They spent the afternoon exploring the valley, but the sun began to set early. "We should head back," the professor said glancing at the sun. "We don't want to be caught out after dark. By the way, welcome to France!" They were at the far end of the meadow. Harry had wanted a first-hand look at just how tall the waterfall really was.

By the time they returned to the castle in the valley below, night had fallen and it had grown quite cold again. Harry, Draco, and Professor Marion enjoyed a light supper then spent the evening in front of the fire relaxing and chatting about anything and everything from quidditch to driving a standard shift car to what they wanted for Christmas. Harry couldn't help but think it was turning into an ideal holiday.

A very cold, wet feeling greeted Harry the next morning. "Ow, geroff!" He grumbled loudly reaching for his glasses. All he could see was a black blur. Once he had his glasses on the black blur resolved into a large black dog; the cold wet feeling had been the dog's nose.

"Sirius!" Harry yelled, laughing as he struggled to get out of bed.

The dog barked happily and transformed into Harry's godfather who then found himself wrapped in a bone-crushing hug. Harry looked over to the doorway, and saw his uncle leaning against the doorpost, smiling at the happy reunion.

"Mangy mutt just turned up in the night. It's a good thing I was warned he was an Animagus, otherwise, I might have been rather frightened to find a grim on my doorstep. Why don't we see if we can get you something to eat."

"I'm really glad you made it, Sirius!" Harry said as they made their way into the kitchen. Professor Marion started getting breakfast together. Harry had been surprised to find his uncle was a halfway decent cook.

"I am too, Harry. It was bloody awful finding the castle. I think Dumbledore put more wards on it than there are even on Hogwarts." Sirius groused good-naturedly as Professor Marion brought a fresh pot of coffee to the table.

"It was UnPlottable before Dumbledore started on it, believe me."

"Coffee, ugh. Do you have any tea?" Sirius asked, wrinkling his nose at the decanter. "Don't tell me you drink this stuff, Harry? Your father used to down the stuff like it was water. I never understood it." Harry shot a glance at his uncle, who was very suddenly very interested in one of the pantries on the other side of the kitchen.

They continued to chat in a desultory fashion, catching up on the goings on in each other's lives. Harry kept casting nervous glances at his uncle, who was very intent on cooking. Sirius then said something that got Harry's full attention, "I spent a little time last month tracking Lucius Malfoy. He's been making lots of trips around England, but I can't figure out what the bloody hell he's up to!"

Harry interrupted his godfather. "Ah…Sirius, something I probably should tell you…" Harry too was interrupted by Draco Malfoy's entrance; his timing was impeccable.

Draco in the morning was not something to be trifled with. He usually did his best impression of Severus Snape as he entered the kitchen, his robe billowing out behind him. He was in his pajamas and house shoes, with his hair sticking up, much like a bleached version of Harry's, and with a look on his face that said 'talk to me and I'll kill you'.

Without so much as a grunt, or even any acknowledgment of anyone's presence, Draco sat down at the table in the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. He sat there nursing it, staring at nothing, the expression on his face still very sour.

Harry's godfather was dumbstruck. He looked from Harry to Draco back to Harry several times, making indistinct noises. Over at the sink, Harry's uncle glanced over and seeing his brother's best friend's reaction, couldn't help but laugh.

"Right," Harry said resignedly, "That's what I was going to tell you. You know Draco right?"

Sirius wasn't entirely sure how to respond. "Well, er, yes, that is, I know who he is, since we're distantly related and all that, but we've never been introduced."

"Okay, fine. Sirius Black, this is Draco Malfoy. Draco this is my godfather, Sirius Black. Draco's not the most pleasant person in the morning Sirius, so you'll forgive him if he seems slightly perturbed."

Draco glared at Harry and looked at Sirius. "Pleased to meet you, or I will be eventually. Once I've had some more coffee."

"Same here," Sirius replied, not quite knowing how to deal with Draco's bad mood.

Harry's uncle saved the day by serving breakfast. The conversation picked up quite a bit, and Draco became much more pleasant once he had imbibed some more coffee. Harry introduced his uncle as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

"You seem oddly familiar," Sirius said as he worked on a sausage. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

Professor Marion went slightly pale, but retained his composure. "No, I don't believe so. I'm American; this is my first time in England. Well, we're not in England, but you know what I mean," he added nervously.

"Hmmm…strange." Sirius went back to eating his breakfast.

The next few days settled into an easy and relaxing routine. They would all breakfast rather late, then Harry and Draco would practice flying and Quidditch. Sometimes Sirius and Brandon would join them, but most of the time Brandon was working on lesson plans for the Spring term and Sirius liked to wander the valley or relax as a dog in the winter sun. Brandon finally gave in and tried to teach Harry and Draco to drive the car, which proved to be a disaster. Harry did well, even though the standard shift was confusing. Draco did horrible, and after several unsuccessful attempts to get the car into gear and moving forward, he gave up, uttering all kinds of curses about muggles and their inability to do anything properly.

Harry noted that his uncle was pretty good at avoiding Sirius. He really wished the DADA professor would level with Sirius about who he was. Harry and Draco were getting tired of having to watch what they said, and Harry was surprised that he found it oddly difficult not to be able to be affectionate with his uncle.

Harry got his wish, though not in the way he would have preferred. Harry, Draco, and his uncle had all come down to breakfast early one morning, completely by coincidence. Harry was asking his uncle about a certain part of the valley. "Do you think there might be a way over the ridge into the next valley over in that direction, uncle?"

Right as he was finishing his sentence, Sirius walked in. "Uncle? Why in the world are you calling the professor your uncle, Harry?" Sirius looked right at Brandon and went white as a sheet. Everyone else froze.

"Well, shit," Draco summed up the situation.

"Uncle…" The wheels were turning in Sirius' head. "Harry's uncle? Merlin's flaming underpants. You're Brandon…James' younger brother, Brandon Potter. _Harry's uncle!"_

Sirius reached for the table to steady himself and sat down heavily. Harry's uncle set down the bowl of pancake batter he was stirring and went over to the table and sighed as he sat down too. "Hello, Sirius." The younger man couldn't help but smile, though it was a partially sad smile. "What would you like to know?"

Brandon spent the next hour filling in his brother's best friend on everything that had happened and answering questions. "At least we don't have to pretend anymore!" Harry added happily.

"This is all very strange, but I can say that I'm very glad you're still around, Brandon. Ever since Regulus…well, you know...you've lost a brother and so have I. Maybe we can have a patchwork family or something like that." Sirius added tentatively.

Brandon nodded but looked as if something was still bothering him. "What's wrong, uncle?" They had all forgotten about breakfast by now, and the morning was threatening to turn into noontime.

Brandon looked mournfully from Harry to Sirius. "This is all my fault. Harry, Sirius, I don't know how you can even stand to be around me."

Harry and Sirius both looked at each other, perplexed, and then at the would-be Marauder, who continued in a very emotional voice. "Sirius, I knew you couldn't have killed my parents because you told me that you weren't the Secret-Keeper. All those years you were in prison, and I could have prevented it, if only I'd spoken up before Dumbledore sent me off."

Harry and Sirius both turned pale and were silent for several minutes. Draco watched intently but was afraid to speak.

"That's…true," Sirius said slowly, some minutes later. "But you were only thirteen, and given everything else that was going on you couldn't have been expected to put two and two together." Sirius sounded a bit like he was trying to convince himself as well. Harry said nothing.

"There's more," Brandon added miserably. He then related what he had overheard on his way to the Quidditch pitch. When he finished there was silence for an even longer period. Finally, Sirius spoke again, even more slowly and quietly, "I don't think there's any possible way you could have known what was happening, Brandon. You can't blame yourself." Brandon looked at his nephew, who had remained silent, and now looked as if he was fighting back tears. Without a word, Harry rose from the table and walked quickly from the room. Draco looked at the two adults, and then at Harry's retreating figure, and rose from the table and left as well.

* * *

Ron Weasley found it all slightly surreal that he was planning a surprise birthday party for Draco Malfoy at his own house. 

"How in the name of the Weird Sisters are we supposed to throw a good party for the most arrogant, uptight, rich, pure-blooded bastard at Hogwarts anyway?" he exclaimed in frustration as he tried to figure out what he was going to do for entertainment.

"Honestly, Ronald, you don't have to impress him. He's our friend," Hermione sniffed. As sometimes happened, her parents had decided at the last minute to spend the holidays in France, and Hermione hadn't really wanted to join them, so she changed her plans and had gone to the Burrow. "Besides, all of Draco's birthday parties in the past have probably been really stuffy affairs, so maybe he'd like something low-key, or at least informal."

"I suppose we'll figure it out. We've still got almost two weeks before they get here, and two weeks exactly until the party." Ron shrugged as Mrs. Weasley announced lunch, and they discussed plans for the party while they ate.

It had been determined that the guests would arrive via Floo, and Arthur Weasley had arranged to erect a pavilion in the backyard for all the students that would be spending the night. The party itself would take place in the cramped, cluttered house, which would be redecorated in green and silver, in honor of Draco's house at Hogwarts.

"I can't believe we're going to have Slytherin colors here!" Ron grumbled.

"Really, Ron, you don't expect him to want a Gryffindor birthday party, do you?" Ginny asked irritably. She was in charge of decorations, and she had to admit, it was hard to figure out how to decorate in those particular colors.

"Well, most of the guests will be Gryffindor students. They're the only ones that can stand the little prat anyway," Ron grumbled into his punch.

"Now I don't want to hear you complaining. Poor Draco's never had a proper birthday, and we're going all out for him," Molly Weasley replied chidingly.

"Er, Mum, how exactly are we paying for all this?" Ron asked.

Mrs. Weasley suddenly got embarrassed. "Oh, I hate to admit it, but that nice new American DADA professor sent me a note with some money saying that he wanted to cover the party expenses, since Draco was staying with him and all that. I thought about sending a note back with the money, but I figured that would be counter-productive, and I have to admit, it does help."

The twins, as usual, were nowhere to be seen. They had disappeared into their rooms upon arriving home for the holiday, and usually only came out for supper. When they heard about the party, they had immediately started whispering with Ginny about decorations. Ron and Hermione knew they were up to something, and they announced that they would be making Draco's present rather than buying him something.

The days passed relatively slowly, with RSVPs for the party trickling in, and preparations being made. It wouldn't be many more days before Draco, Harry, and his uncle arrived. Ron was trying to work out how to get Draco out of the house long enough for everyone to arrive and to get the place decorated.

"Easy, Ronald. We'll have Harry and his uncle take Draco shopping at Diagon Alley. They'll certainly have to pick up things for Christmas," Hermione said as if it were the simplest thing in the world as she, Ron, and Ginny talked one evening.

"What if there are people there buying birthday presents for Draco?"

"We'll tell them to do it earlier. They should know that anyway.," Hermione replied, sharing a knowing look with Ginny.

"Excellent. We can send our Christmas lists with them. That way they'll be gone longer and we can get most of our Christmas shopping done," Ginny added.

"Whatever, if you guys say so. I'm going to bed." Ron said goodnight and headed up the stairs to his room. Soon after, the girls headed to bed as well.

* * *

Athena Taylor decided that traveling with teenagers was not all it was cracked up to be. She would have given just about anything to be traveling alone with her husband, David. It wasn't that she didn't love her kids, it's just that they were being obnoxious little beasts at the moment. 

The Taylors were somewhere over the Atlantic, headed for London, and the boys were tired of sitting in the cramped airplane seats.

"Tell me again why we couldn't Apparate or Floo?" Brent asked irritably.

"Shhh! Not so loud," Athena scolded. "You know the Floo network doesn't connect overseas, and we can't Apparate because you two aren't old enough."

"I only lack a couple of months being seventeen," Brent grumped. He was the older of the two boys and was tall with curly black hair. By contrast, his brother Jason, though equally tall, had a slimmer build, freckles, and very red hair. He could have easily passed for a Weasley, and the others in the family used to joke that he had been adopted along with Brandon. Jason didn't like that very much, especially since he knew of at least a couple of other people in their extended family that had red hair.

Jason rolled his eyes at his brother, and went back to reading the latest issue of _Racing Broom_. He wanted to try out for the Quidditch team in the Spring, and needed a new broom. He was also secretly hoping he might get one for Christmas.

All four Taylors were excited to see their cousin and adopted family member Brandon Potter. Athena had to explain to the boys about their cousin's real identity. She wasn't sure they understood it all, but they promised not to reveal who Brandon really was to anyone who didn't already know.

Athena's frustration with her children only increased once they arrived in London. It seemed the boys were quite annoyed that nothing was like the United States.

"That's the whole point of going to another country! It's different!"

"When are we going home?" Jason asked. Jet lag had gotten to him, and he didn't feel well at all. "And why is there a funny looking toilet in the bathroom next to the real toilet?"

"We're here for ten days, so you might as well not complain about it. We're going to Stonehenge and Glastonbury Tor once we leave London, and then we're going to a place called the Burrow where we're going to spend Christmas with your cousin and his friends and what's left of his family," David said tiredly. He was laying on the bed unsuccessfully trying to catch a nap. "The funny looking toilet is not a toilet. It's a bidet."

"What's a bidet for?" Brent asked. His mother explained how it worked, and when she was done, both boys looked astonished. "Merlin's Beard, what would you want with one of those!"

It was going to be a long ten days indeed.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy had been rather busy. Like a true Malfoy, he had confirmed on his own (not trusting the Dark Lord's information without double-checking) that the Dragon's Tear was in fact at Glastonbury Tor, and that that whelp Brandon Potter's adopted family would in fact be visiting it in the next week or so. 

Accordingly, Lucius had put together another little plan of attack. His sardonic side mused that if he ever found himself out of the Death Eater business (not likely, and remain alive) he could always become an Evil Events Planner, or something equally nonsensical.

As of right now, the plan was fairly straightforward. It would have been more intelligent, and infinitely safer, to sneak into Glastonbury Tor at night and steal the Dragon's Tear. However, the Dark Lord wanted to make a point, and thus the raid would be in broad daylight.

The plan, in fact, was almost like an unhappy reunion of the foiled Halloween attack on Hogwarts. Lucius still hadn't figured out how the school had been forewarned, but he wasn't taking any chances this time, and had told no one who was not directly involved in the raid.

They planned to Apparate to the Tor early in the morning before sunrise on the day Potter's family was supposed to visit, then they would conceal themselves in the forest, keeping a lookout for the family's arrival. Once that happened, Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson, along with several other lesser Death Eaters would create a diversion, and wreak as much havoc as possible while Lucius entered the Tor and retrieved the Dragon's Tear, which was supposedly buried somewhere down in the hill in a chamber accessible only from inside the building itself. Killing Brandon Potter's family was the second part of the plan, though the less important part, and though it did not make Lucius happy, he would be willing to settle for serious injury and mayhem if outright killing was not possible.

There was a knock on the door of Lucius' above-ground study. "What?" Lucius asked shortly.

"It's me, father. May I come in?" came the muffled voice of Ivy Malfoy.

Lucius smiled in a manner that was not entirely calculating or evil. He waved his wand at the door absent-mindedly and spoke a word. The door magically unlocked and opened to admit his daughter.

Ivy entered the room, somewhat apprehensive, though it didn't show. She had been doing her best to spend as little time around her father as possible, but she knew that if she spent no time with him, that would be rather suspicious also. She had taken to passing a few minutes every evening chatting with him in his office. She sat down in the chair next to her father's desk and looked at Lucius in what she hoped was an adoring manner. "Hello, father. Are you too busy?"

"Of course not. Tell me about your day." They chatted pointlessly for several minutes, Ivy becoming increasingly nervous as she brought the conversation round to a question she wasn't sure how to approach. She decided the best method would be to try the "spoiled daddy's girl" approach. That sometimes still worked on Lucius, if he was in a proper mood, as he appeared to be today.

"Um, father, may I ask a favor?" Lucius nodded, his interest piqued. Ivy almost never asked her father for favors.

"I was wondering if I might be able to go to Diagon Alley just before Christmas to do my shopping? I think the house-elves have already bought everyone else's presents," she asked nervously.

"Why don't you send the house-elves to shop for you?" Lucius asked suspiciously. It was not like his daughter to do something when a house-elf could handle it.

"Oh, well, you know," Ivy said, trying her hardest to look cute. "I'm not sure what I want to buy everyone yet, and I thought it would be nice to get out for a bit."

Lucius looked at his daughter even more suspiciously. "I don't suppose that you want to visit Diagon Alley because you're meeting a young man? You know that as a wizarding family of the highest reputation we have certain traditions and protocols to uphold, especially where courtship is involved."

Ivy was surprised. Her father had gone charging off in a completely different direction. 'If the shoe fits,' she thought. "Please, father? It's nothing official or anything like. He just mentioned that he would be shopping in Diagon Alley, and asked if I could meet him. I do need to shop, too, otherwise there won't be any Christmas presents from me." Ivy was almost pleading.

"This young man is from a good, respectable, family?" Lucius asked.

Ivy micheviously thought about the fact that she would most likely be meeting Harry Potter, and it might even be in Diagon Alley, before she headed to the Burrow, of course. "The best family, father. Very respectable."

Lucius considered his daughter for a moment. "Very well, but if your interest in this young man persists, we must think about a proper courtship."

"Thank you father!" Ivy wanted to hug her father, but remembered that Malfoys didn't really do that, thus she nodded her head and left her father to his own devices. She then went immediately and stealthily to see her mother who was still imprisoned in the opposite wing of the manor to make plans for Draco's birthday. They had to be careful, as both were certain Lucius had Narcissa's rooms under close watch, but they were able to lay out a plan. She then checked in with her brother, who seemed to be having an excellent time in Spain. Ivy was jealous.

Back in his study, Lucius wondered what else Ivy had planned besides meeting a boy in Diagon Alley. Ivy had been well-trained by her parents and by Draco, and Lucius knew enough about his daughter to know she was very much a Slytherin and that she had other plans for her outing as well. He resolved to keep a closer watch on Ivy, lest that brat of a son of his and his muggle-loving friend Harry Potter ruin her as well.


	18. Recognition and Preparation

**Author's Note: Hello again! Thanks for reading. My apologies for the late posting of this chapter and the fact that it's slightly shorter. I'm moving this week, and I picked the wettest week in 100 years (in SoCal anyway) to do it; I'm slightly stressed. I'm also slightly behind on responding to reviews, but I will email those of you that I can get an address for, I promise! Thanks for reading and reviewing. **

**Special note: the phrase 'almighty toilet' that appears in this chapter is used by permission of my good friend Matt. He said it, I liked it, he said I could use it.**

**Disclaimer: K, not mine, just for fun. No garden gnomes were harmed in creation of this chapter. Draco did brain some batty old woman fighting over something in the sales rack of Madam Malkin's though. On with the show…**

**Chapter 18 – Recognition and Preparation**

Harry left the kitchen as quickly as he could and headed out into the courtyard. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard! His uncle knew that Voldemort had planned to attack his parents! Harry was so overwhelmed with conflicting emotions that he couldn't see straight, and he wasn't really paying attention to where he was going. He just knew that he had to get out of the kitchen and away from his uncle.

Harry continued to walk, tears of rage and hurt blinding his vision. He walked quickly for quite some time until he calmed down enough to realize he was in a part of the valley he hadn't explored yet. Harry paused to get his bearings, looking around. He could no longer see the castle from his current location. He had discovered that it was surprisingly easy to become disoriented in the valley. Even though it was long and narrow, the mountains looming overhead often made it difficult to make out any sense of direction, and this was compounded by the fact that the valley had many small rises and dells.

Harry realized he must have crossed the stream at some point, though he didn't remember it, because the mountains now rose to his right as he faced the entrance of the valley, rather than the head. He was fairly close to the valley wall, and as he looked around he saw what looked like an old abandoned hut about a quarter-mile away in the cleft of a hillside near the valley floor. 'That would be a good place to get away for a bit,' he thought and he stepped off again making for the hut.

The angry Gryffindor teenager arrived at the hut after another five minutes or so of walking. The hut was exactly what it appeared to be from far off – built entirely of stone with a thatch roof that was falling down in places. Harry guessed it had once belonged to a shepherd. He cautiously went inside, pushing open a door that was barely hanging by one rusty hinge, to find a dirt floor and not much else. With a sigh, Harry sat down in the middle of the floor and wrapped his arms around his legs, which were drawn up under his chin.

Harry had not been there long, and had not really been thinking about anything – just staring blankly into space, when the door opened slowly. Harry tensed, looking up at the intruding beam of sunlight, when he heard a familiar voice. "Harry?"

It was Draco, and sure enough, the blond boy poked his head into the dimly lit hut. Harry was glad it was Draco rather than Sirius or his uncle, but he really didn't want to talk to anyone at all. "No offense, Draco, but I'd rather not talk about it right now."

Draco nodded by way of response, but Harry's statement didn't deter the Slytherin from entering the hut and sitting down across from Harry anyway. Harry looked at his new friend, annoyed because he thought that Draco was going to try to press him. Draco, however, was strangely silent, seemingly content to wait and watch Harry, and just to be there.

The two boys sat there for quite some time, one with his dark brow furrowed in thought, the other simply waiting. Eventually, Harry felt compelled to speak.

"Why does everything in my life have to be so difficult? Why can't I just be normal?" Harry asked, the frustration thick in his voice.

Draco sighed, "I don't know, Harry." He was silent for a moment more, then added, "I'm, er, not really sure how to say this, but I never really realized how hard your life has been. I always just assumed you were this tragic hero figure that ignored the rules and loved the spotlight. I'm sorry." Draco looked morosely at the floor.

Harry was surprised at Draco's words, and he looked up to see if the blond boy was being sincere. Part of Harry still found it odd to be having serious, civil conversations with his once-rival. Harry and Draco had never talked about how they had treated each other in the past; they had both simply assumed that they were starting over from scratch. Certainly, Harry had never expected Draco to apologize for his behavior. He was surprised to find that even if Draco's statement wasn't really related to what Harry was dealing with currently, it did make him feel better.

"Wow," Harry said with a surprised look on his face. "Thanks, Draco. I'm sorry I, er, just assumed you were a sniveling wanker that just liked to make people miserable all these years," Harry smiled tentatively; Draco positively beamed. Soon, however Harry was frowning again. "But what am I supposed to do about my uncle?"

"What do you want to do about your uncle?" Draco asked cryptically.

Harry thought for a moment. "I don't really know. _He knew, Draco! _My own uncle knew that Voldemort was going to attack my parents and he didn't do anything about it! And then, as if that wasn't bad enough, he didn't even defend Sirius even though he _knew_ Sirius wasn't responsible! And Sirius has already all but forgiven him!" Harry had risen to his feet and was gesturing wildly as he paced the room.

"But did your uncle really know? How old was he, thirteen, when this all happened? And you heard that Dumbledore all but whisked him away immediately, and then brain-washed him practically." Draco was talking in an animated fashion as well. If there was one thing that Draco had always appreciated about Harry, it was his ability to argue.

"When I was thirteen, I had defeated Voldemort three times and could conjure a fully-formed Patronus to withstand dementors!"

"You're also the Boy-Who-Lived, and you didn't have Dumbledore brain-washing you, either," Draco countered.

Harry stopped short and turned to face Draco. The look on his face scared the blond boy. He had never seen Harry look so determined before. "No, Draco, I think Dumbledore's been brain-washing me ever since I set foot at Hogwarts. I don't think he meant to do anything bad, and I'm not sure that he has, but he does seem to have a problem with taking control of my family, and I think it needs to stop." Harry's voice set the hair on the back of Draco's neck standing on end; it was as cold as wind coming off the mountain peak above them.

"Bloody hell, Potter. Remind me not to cross you when you're angry," Draco chuckled nervously. This new side of Harry Potter made him wary.

Surprisingly, Harry laughed too, and this served to break the tension a bit. "I still don't know what to do about my uncle. Even if he didn't know what was going on, and even if he was under Dumbledore's spell, literally, it's hard to think about that, and then feel good about being around him." Harry sighed, and sat down again, picking little pebbles out of the dirt floor and throwing them at the wall of the hut distractedly.

"Come on, Harry. He's still your uncle, and he still loves you. You saw how horrible he felt about the whole thing. Don't you think he's beating himself up over it enough already?"

"Do you think that's why he's been kind of out of it, and why he wasn't really excited about Sirius being here, because he just remembered all this stuff, and didn't know how to deal with it?" Harry asked by way of response.

"Probably," Draco nodded.

"I know you're probably right, Draco, but I just can't get over it that easily. It's going to be very odd being around him for a while."

"That's understandable, but you're about to get your chance. It's lunchtime." Draco stood up and headed for the door. Harry said nothing, but rose also and turned to follow. They walked back to the castle in silence.

* * *

If Harry could have seen his uncle's reaction after Harry left, any doubt in his mind that might have existed about their being related would have vanished instantly. When the two boys had left, Brandon got out of his chair and began pacing about the kitchen, gesturing wildly as he talked. "How could I have been such a blithering idiot, Sirius!" 

Sirius was still rather in shock about the whole situation and didn't really feel up to responding, but he managed to croak out, "Uh….er….that is….um,"

Brandon whirled around and glared at his brother's best friend. "Big help you are," he said sardonically.

"Now you just hold up a bit you prat," Sirius retaliated. "This is all rather new to me, you know, and I'm having a bit of trouble figuring out what this all means. Bloody hell, not only do I find out that my best friend's bratty younger brother isn't dead, I found out that he could have possibly prevented the whole thing, and you expect me to just glibly accept it?"

Brandon looked mortified once again, and decided to try and placate the older man. "Now, Sirius…"

Sirius was on a roll, however. "And if that's not bad enough, I also find out that Harry's new best friend is none other than Draco Malfoy, the son of Death Eater extraordinare Lucius Malfoy. How could you even think about letting Harry associate with him, Brandon? I know we Marauders taught you better than that." Sirius glared at Brandon, fuming.

Brandon stood his ground, "Now wait just a cotton-pickin' minute," he said, wincing at the Americanism. He tended to slip into colloquialisms when he was worked up. "I'm a grown man Sirius. I didn't like you and James treating me like a child when we were growing up and I like it even less now. Draco Malfoy is nothing like his father. Even if I didn't take Harry's word for it, I've had enough experience with the boy on my own that I know that for a fact. You should not judge him before you get to know him. Of all people, I would think you would understand that not all children turn out like their parents."

Sirius snorted, but Brandon could tell he had made a point. Sirius sighed and walked over to the table and sat down again. Brandon did the same.

"You're right, of course, just like James was every time I got out of line. I won't judge Draco."

Brandon was looking uncomfortable again. "What do you suppose about Harry?" he asked nervously.

Sirius shrugged. "It's hard to say. He's definitely related to you and James, though." The older man got serious again. "I do have to admit, I'm going to have to think about this one for a bit myself. It's rather a lot to digest."

Brandon nodded, but said nothing. Instead, he got up to refill his coffee cup, and brought Sirius more water for his tea. "I know it seems like we've just finished breakfast, but it's time to start thinking about lunch." Brandon began to get out things for sandwiches, leaving Sirius to his thoughts.

Sirius thought about many things - his childhood with the Potters, his years at Hogwarts, his imprisonment in Azkaban and subsequent re-acquaintance with his godson. As he watched Brandon Potter preparing lunch, he couldn't help but still see the tagalong younger brother of James Potter that always wanted to be included, no matter how annoying he was, in the Marauder's plans. It had been hard enough to come to terms with James' and Lily's death and to re-insert himself into Harry's life, even tenuously. It was an even greater shock to his system to find Brandon alive, and then to learn that the circumstances of what happened at Hogwarts so many years ago were such that the younger Potter could have prevented many of the dark events from happening.

Part of Sirius wanted to be angry at Brandon for not putting together the pieces of the puzzle, for allowing so many things to happen, by default. He found himself unable. None of the Potters were known for their amazing intellect, or particular ability to solve mysteries. Their strengths lied in their loyalty, courage, and ability to make it through difficult situations by sheer force of will. Sirius doubted if James could have figured it all out if faced with similar information, and Brandon was clearly still quite young when this all occurred. Sirius came to an internal decision. As hard as it was for him to digest it, he really couldn't blame Brandon for what might have been.

Conveniently, Harry and Draco reappeared just as Brandon was finishing up the preparations for the noon meal. Sirius had been telling Brandon about the time he scared Harry to death when he appeared as a dog in Privet Drive when they boys entered, and Brandon turned around to see what was going on when Sirius stopped suddenly mid-sentence.

Harry looked at his uncle, who returned the stare uneasily. Without a word, Harry went to the table and sat down. Brandon, Sirius, and Draco all traded glances and Brandon brought the sandwiches to the table.

They ate in silence for a couple of minutes when finally Sirius all but exploded, "This is ridiculous! Harry James Potter, I know you are not blaming your uncle for something he had no control over. He was thirteen, for Merlin's sake, and while you may have managed to defeat You-Know-Who twice by thirteen, the rest of us are depressingly normal. Your uncle loves you, that's obvious, and he loved your parents, and yes, I can say it, he even loves me, the goofy prat, and you had better not give him the cold shoulder because he was the victim of circumstance, just like the rest of us were."

Harry had been sinking lower and lower into his chair at Sirius' tirade. He would have much preferred to receive a Howler. When his Godfather finished, Harry mumbled, "I know. It's just going to take some getting used to. I don't blame you at all, uncle, at least not consciously. Maybe I still do deep down somewhere, but I'll get over it. What I don't get is why you won't reveal who you are and clear Sirius of the charges against him."

Two very surprised faces and one anxious one turned to face the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who seemed at a complete loss for words.

* * *

The next several days saw things at the Marion/Potter castle return to something resembling normal, though it was obvious that Harry was not nearly as happy as he had been earlier in the holiday. He also seemed to distance himself from his uncle, and though it hurt Brandon terribly, he didn't force the issue. 

On their last evening at the castle, Harry was sitting on one of the ramparts watching the sun set over the line of hills to the west. Professor Marion was loading the car and he happened to look up and see his nephew. Setting his jaw firmly, he climbed the steps to the rampart and sat down next to his nephew.

"Hey," the professor said quietly.

"Hey," Harry responded somewhat dully.

"Listen, Harry," the professor continued, putting his arm around his nephew. It almost killed him when he felt Harry tense up at the contact. "I know this last week has been hard on you, but what Sirius said the other day is true. I love my family more than anything else on this earth, and that includes you. I would do anything to be able to change what happened thirteen years ago, but I can't." Harry couldn't help but think of Hermione's Time Turner. "I would do anything to protect my family, and now you're all the family I have. How much more am I going to try to keep you from harm?" The professor looked up to see Sirius approaching, "Especially to protect from that mangy mutt that's your Godfather," He said lightly.

"Hey, watch it. You notice James didn't nominate _you_ for the position." Sirius said, sitting himself down as well.

"That's because I was bloody twelve - or thirteen, I don't really remember - when Harry was born."

"Well, we obviously know who the better man is, don't we," Sirius said in a mock-arrogant voice.

Harry and Brandon both snorted. "Anyway, it's just as well you're here, Sirius. Listen, I've been thinking, you two. Harry's raised a good point. There really is no reason, other than the fact that it raises a lot of personal issues for me to deal with, that I shouldn't reveal who I am to the Ministry of Magic and see if we can't get you out of hot water, Sirius. I mean, Voldemort and Lucius both know about me already, so there's no point in trying to keep it a secret."

Harry and Sirius both looked at Brandon, clearly surprised. "You'd do that, uncle?" Harry asked incredulously.

Professor Marion nodded. "We can go floo Dumbledore right now, if you'd like." He was surprised to see both his companions frowning. "What?"

"Maybe we should wait till both of you are safe back at Hogwarts? I've been on the run for a year, and a few more weeks won't kill me. I certainly would feel better about knowing the two of you were at least partially secluded. Who knows what will happen once the news gets out."

The professor nodded and turned to look at Harry, who was still frowning a bit. "Well?" he asked.

"Not Dumbledore," Harry said decisively. "It's true he's done a lot for us, but I can't help but feel like things might have been very different if he hadn't chosen to get involved in our lives to the extent that he has. I think it's time we started making our own decisions. I just wish I knew why Dumbledore was so interested in the Potter clan."

"The old man has his reasons, I'm sure. Maybe one day he'll see fit to clue us in on what he's thinking," the professor agreed. "Alright, we'll wait till we're back at school, and then we'll _tell_ Dumbledore what we're doing rather than asking. OK?"

Harry and Sirius both nodded. "Excellent. Now, there's much left to do before we hit the road in the morning. Bed early tonight, young man."

Harry grumbled good-naturedly, "Yes sir."

"I was talking to Sirius, but now that I think about it, that goes for you and Draco too, Harry," the professor said before he made a mad dash off the rampart to get out of the reach of the other two.

* * *

Harry, Draco, and Brandon said their goodbyes to Sirius early the next morning. Brandon told Sirius he was welcome to stay in the castle as long as he liked, whenever he liked, and he adjusted the wards to recognize the fugitive animagus. 

The trip back to England went much more smoothly than the trip out, mostly because Harry and his uncle kept a much tighter rein on Draco, who still managed to be grumpy about things like luggage and security. "Bloody hell, Draco, it's not like you didn't know it was coming this time," Harry exclaimed in frustration as Draco was all but strip-searched at the airport in London because he had neglected to take the ring that allowed him to communicate with Ivy out of his pocket.

Because of the way the plane schedule turned out, they made the return trip in one day, and the three weary travelers found themselves climbing off the Knight Bus in Ottery St. Catchpole just as the sun went down. It was cold, and the sky was lowering, bringing with it the threat of snow. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were there to meet them, and after a round of hugs from Hermione and Ginny (who got quite embarrassed when she had to hug Draco, who seemed equally uncomfortable) and handshakes from Ron, they walked the short distance to the Burrow.

"Uh, Ron, have you told the rest of your family about my uncle?" Harry asked as they walked.

"Sure haven't mate, why?"

"He just wanted me to know what I'm walking into, Ron. It seems to have a way of coming out, whether we want it to or not." Professor Marion shot a pointed look – though not an unkind one - at his nephew, who had the grace to look sheepish.

"Ah, right," Ron agreed.

While this conversation was taking place Draco and Ginny were talking in a rather animated fashion about the Quidditch cup. Hermione was doing her best to look interested and failing miserably.

They arrived at the Burrow in short order. Arthur Weasley greeted them at the door. "You're just in time for dinner! I don't know what Molly's cooked up, she won't let me in the kitchen, but it smells wonderful," He said as the herd stamped it's way into the house, trying to get warm. "Ah, Mr. Malfoy, nice to see you conscious this time around."

Draco glared at Mr. Weasley momentarily, then broke out in a toothy grin. "And you must be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor we've heard so much about. A pleasure to meet you finally." Brandon shook hands with the man he vaguely remembered from his childhood.

"Pleased to meet you, I'm Brandon Marion."

"We're so glad you could make it. Now, do I understand that the rest of your family is arriving Christmas Eve?"

"Er…yes…I hope it's not an inconvenience."

"Oh no, not at all! The more the merrier."

"Excellent!" Everyone was gathering in the Weasley's living room, shedding coats and gloves, and setting down luggage.

"How in the world did you get Draco to lug his own suitcase? That's bloody brilliant!" Ron yelled, seeing Draco struggling with his luggage.

"Ronald!" Hermione and Mrs. Weasley, who had entered the living room to announce dinner, said at the same time. Ron didn't even pretend to look abashed, he just stood there grinning while Draco looked annoyed.

"Dinner everyone!" Mrs. Weasley announced. Oddly, the twins, who were in their room, of course, did not need notification. They appeared just as everyone else was sitting down at the magically lengthened table.

"So what is everyone up to tomorrow?" Mrs. Weasley asked, an expression of pure innocence on her face, after they all settled in and were working their way through the meal. About fifty glances were exchanged around the table, which Draco missed, because he was trying to decide if he wanted more pumpkin soufflé.

Ginny spoke up first, "Oh you know, Mum, I just thought I would hang around here, maybe if there's snow I'll go outside for a bit."

"I've got some homework to do," Hermione added helpfully.

"Er, yeah, me too," Ron said unconvincingly.

"I was thinking I might go to Diagon Alley and do some Christmas shopping," Harry said nonchalantly.

Draco perked up at this. "Diagon Alley? That's a good idea. I need to pick up some things too." Harry shuddered at the thought of shopping with Draco in Diagon Alley. Hogsmeade had been bad enough. At least it was for a good cause.

"I think I'll join you two," the professor said. "It's been a long time since I was in Diagon Alley…oops." Brandon clapped one hand over his mouth just a bit too late when he realized what he said.

"I thought you said you went straight to Hogwarts from America, professor?" Ginny asked, her brow furrowed.

"Er…I did."

"Then how is it that you've been to Diagon Alley?"

"Oh, er…that is…you know…" Everyone was staring at the professor now, who seemed more at a loss than would normally have been warranted by the situation. Brandon traded a glance with Harry who shrugged. The professor sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping. "Bloody hell, I might as well tell you the whole thing." He launched into his explanation about who he really was.

The Weasleys (those that didn't know) were dumbfounded. Those at the table that knew had heard the story enough times that it was slightly boring, and they kept eating. "But, you're Harry's uncle!" Ginny said.

"That explains a lot," Fred said. George nodded in agreement.

"Well, of course I remember you now, dear." Mrs. Weasley said, looking at Brandon with concern. "Oh you poor thing. All you've been through." Harry was slightly amused that his uncle was being mothered by Mrs. Weasley.

Brandon found himself barraged by any number of questions, and it was rather late before they all got to bed. Draco never noticed the sleeping draught Hermione slipped in his hot chocolate when he went to use the restroom.

* * *

The next morning everyone was up well before Draco, making preparations for the party. "I've got to get to Diagon Alley to meet Ivy before Draco wakes up," Harry said frantically as he rushed around trying to stuff toast into his mouth as he got ready to leave. 

No one was particularly excited about the prospect of letting Harry loose alone in Diagon Alley. "I'll be fine. I'm meeting Ivy there, you know, and there will be tons of people around." Harry's uncle was still frowning. "Besides you won't far behind us, uncle."

"Fine. Go. I'm going to get Draco up in an hour or so. I think Hermione gave him a rather strong dose of that sleeping draught." Hermione looked very interested in her tea. "Remember, you'll need to send Ivy straight here after you two finish your shopping, and then you'll need to keep Draco occupied all afternoon."

"Like that will be a problem. He could spend all day in Diagon Alley," Harry groaned, and stepped over the fire, and shortly, he had disappeared in a blaze of green flame.

Draco turned out to be rather difficult to rouse, and an absolute unholy terror once he was awake. He realized immediately what had happened, and flew into a rage, "Who did it? I'm going to kill them!" Draco was spitting with rage. If there was one thing he hated, it was having a potion snuck on him.

Professor Marion shoved a cup of coffee at the boy. "Here. Now shut up. I'm not going to put up with your whining. We thought we'd let you have a bit of a lie-in on your birthday, and this is how you react? Very nice."

That set Draco off even more. "You're damn right it's my birthday, and I bloody well will make a scene if I want to."

Professor Marion just rolled his eyes, and left Draco to his own devices. He returned downstairs where everyone was staring at him wide-eyed. "It was pretty bad," he said, "but he'll get over it. Maybe."

Draco appeared downstairs about a half-hour later, still surly, but no longer downright angry. He seemed to be contemplating what might be in store for his birthday, but no one would give him the satisfaction of talking about it. This only served to worsen his mood.

"All right, birthday boy, let's go. Harry's probably bored stiff waiting for us." Professor Marion wasn't trying to irk Draco on purpose, but he didn't like being yelled at, and so was rather annoyed at the blond boy. They too quickly disappeared in a blaze of green flame.

The disappearance of Brandon Marion and Draco Malfoy was the cue for everyone else in the Burrow to kick things into high gear for the surprise party. Molly Weasley cleared away breakfast and then barricaded herself in the kitchen to cook. Arthur Weasley went out back to begin putting up the pavilion, and to place the enchantments to keep it warm.

Fred and George had disappeared back into their room, saying that they had to finish some last minute preparations for the party. Ron suspected they were making "adjustments" to some fireworks. It was left to Ron, Ginny, and Hermione to start putting up decorations. Fortunately, they had planned everything out beforehand, so it was a matter of doing rather than actually trying to figure out what to do. It wasn't too long before the Burrow had been transformed from an amazingly overcrowded house to an amazingly overcrowded house with lots of silver and green streamers, balloons, and 'Happy Birthday, Draco' signs. The overall effect was very Slytherin, and really quite festive. Ron still grumbled at having to 'taint' the Burrow in such a manner.

Shortly before noon, the twins appeared with about twenty little round spheres that had slats in one face. Hermione commented that they looked like muggle audio speakers. Fred and George just beamed at her, then pulled out their wands and tapped the pile of spheres and said, "_Leviosa Oratum_". The spheres immediately lifted off the table and began drifting off to various corners of the house, each playing a very tinny and very obnoxious version of "Happy Birthday." Hermione looked rather bemused, but Ron thought it was brilliant. Some of the speakers were singing a version of the song that wasn't exactly innocent.

In a stroke of genius, Arthur Weasley had made a deal with the lawn gnomes in the garden. They needed a way to light the garden, and since the lawn gnomes were impervious to cold, Arthur told them that if they would hold candles for lighting the party, he wouldn't de-gnome the garden for at least six months. The gnomes were so short that the candles would be very close to the ground, providing more mood lighting than direct lighting – perfect for a party.

* * *

Harry arrived in Diagon Alley in good order, if somewhat sooty. He was supposed to meet Ivy outside of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. Harry walked quickly through the crowded street, and was in front of the ice cream parlor before you could say 'strawberry sundae.' Ivy was waiting for him, looking the other direction just outside the entrance. Harry snuck up behind the blond girl and tickled her sides. Ivy jumped in surprise, and then spun around and slapped Harry on the face. 

"Ow!" he said, rubbing his jaw.

"Oh! Sorry, Harry. You shouldn't have surprised me like that." She immediately gave Harry a warm hug, which caused the Gryffindor to forget all about his stinging jaw.

"Er, hi," he said bashfully.

"It's really good to see you, Harry!"

"How have you been?"

"Oh, you know. It hasn't been bad. Father's been more or less fine, but I'm really glad to get away for a day or so. How are the plans for the party coming?"

"I think everything's all ready to go. Draco and my uncle should be here shortly so you guys can put the decorations up at the house and get ready for the party. Hermione put sleeping potion in Draco's drink last night, so we've got a little bit of time."

Ivy giggled. "Oooo, Draco's going to be pissed that you gave him a sleeping potion."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Fortunately my uncle has to deal with that, and I don't envy him a bit. Do you have any idea what you're going to get Draco for his birthday? Or Christmas for that matter?"

Ivy chewed her lip in uncertainty. "I have no idea. Come on, let's look around." Before he could protest, Harry found himself dragged away from the ice cream parlor.

"Alright, but we've only got an hour," he pleaded. "We don't want Draco to see you. That's part of the surprise."

"Fine. Whatever. Let's go," Ivy said impatiently.

The next hour was hell for Harry, and it was made only worse by the fact that he knew he would have to endure most of the day shopping with Draco after he sent Ivy on her way. It ended up being a close thing. Harry and Ivy picked out Draco's gift, and Harry had no sooner sent Ivy through the fireplace when a very grumpy Professor Marion and an even more grumpy Draco Malfoy appeared in the fireplace at The Leaky Cauldron. Neither Harry nor Ivy had noticed that hooded figure in the Leaky Cauldron that left shortly after Ivy.

'This is not going to be fun,' Harry thought. He was right.

Draco and Harry's uncle managed to bicker most of the morning, and about the only good things about the whole day, from Harry's standpoint, were the fact that they managed to keep Draco out of the house, and that Harry finished all of his Christmas shopping, as well as the shopping for those that were still stuck at the Burrow making preparations for the party.

It all started outside of Madam Malkin's robes for all occasions. Draco felt the need to go in and buy some new robes, but Harry's uncle would have nothing to do with it. They ended up arguing over whether or not Draco could even go in. Harry had to solve the problem in the end by stepping between the two.

"Honestly! You're both acting like you're eight. Uncle, Draco does need new robes, at least according to his standards, and Draco, you can't spend too long in there. Thirty minutes is all."

Neither Brandon nor Draco were especially happy about this. Harry just felt like an annoyed parent. 'I'm supposed to be the emotional teenager here,' he thought miserably as his uncle griped about having to sit around looking at "man-dresses," a phrase that Draco didn't seem to appreciate.

The next stop was one they all agreed on – Quality Quidditch Supplies. They were able to kill a couple of hours in there, each ogling the latest update to both the Nimbus and Firebolt series. Harry's uncle picked up a couple of little things for his Strato-Speedster Special.

One problem the three shoppers (two of them reluctant) were having was that they needed to buy Christmas presents for each other, but Professor Marion wasn't about to let them split up. "Look," Harry finally said. He was now quite frustrated as well. "Let's just be honest here. I need to buy presents for the two of you, not to mention everyone else, and I know you two have presents to buy for me as well."

"So?" Draco challenged.

Harry let out a frustrated breath. "So, my uncle's not about to let us go off on our own, right?" Harry looked at his uncle.

"You're darn tootin'….er right," the young professor quickly corrected himself when he saw the horrified looks on the two boys' faces.

"Right. So we just need to agree that we're not going to ask what the others are buying, or try to look in bags or anything, otherwise we won't get anywhere, and we won't get any shopping done for each other."

Draco and the professor traded dubious glances – they were both still in rather foul moods. "Fine," they both said finally.

After that, things went more quickly, if not more smoothly or easily. Draco still took way too long trying things on, or looking for just the right gift, and Harry's uncle complained the entire time.

Late afternoon found the trio sitting in the Leaky Cauldron trying to warm up. It had begun raining, but the temperature was hovering near freezing, and so it was rather a slushy rain.

"It's like someone up there flushed an almighty toilet," Draco was griping, predictably.

"Well, it won't do you any good to whine about it, unless you can change the weather. Besides, we're pretty much done for the day, I think. Let's order something to eat (they had skipped lunch) and floo back to the Burrow before it turns to snow," Harry's uncle responded in a short tone of voice.

Harry was rather tired of all the bickering; he nodded his head wearily. He hoped everything was ready for Draco's birthday party. 'It damn well better be after all I've had to put up with today, or those Dementors will look like the Welcome Committee by the time I'm done,' he thought as Tom hobbled over to take their orders.

* * *

About the same time the three shoppers were ordering, all the preparations were finished at the Burrow. The pavilion had been put up in the back yard, the garden gnomes were grudgingly holding their candles. 

In the house, Molly Weasley had laid the dining table with a spread of food that would have rivaled the Welcome Feast at Hogwarts, and the house had been decorated such that it was hardly recognizable.

Hermione, Ron, and Ivy had been put on duty as greeters while everyone else got ready for the party. Their job was to sit by the fire and wait for guests to floo in whereupon they would be directed on what to do and where to stand while they all waited on Harry, Professor Marion, and Draco to arrive. It was slightly awkward at first as Ron and Hermione hadn't interacted very much with Draco's younger sister, but they soon found themselves relatively comfortable with the blond girl. Arriving guests were also apprised of the arrangements for sleeping – girls would be in the house, boys in the magically heated pavilion outside, which was also where most of the non-food related festivities would take place.

Slowly the guests started arriving, and before long, everyone was present, accounted for, and in their appointed places. All eyes were on the clock as the hands slowly moved toward the time when the three travelers would floo back to the Burrow. As the minutes inched onward, the tension, the sense of waiting, in the house grew ever greater until it was just one minute until the scheduled return of Harry, Draco and Professor Marion. Each person wondered if the blond boy would be surprised at his reception, and if so, what his reaction would be. They hoped it would be a good one.


	19. A Slew of Surprises

Authors Note: Hello everybody – Finally another chapter! I really appreciate you hanging with me. I'm very sorry this chapter has taken so long to write and post. My life has been very much out of control for the last month for a myriad of reasons, and I beg your indulgence. Thanks for reading and reviewing – if you submitted a review and I've not responded, I will do so as soon as possible (like after I file my taxes. Argh!)

In compliance with the new Rating system, this story has been downgraded to a 'T' rating.

Disclaimer: Not mine, just for fun, rated 'K+' because of the occasional bad word. No Garden Gnomes were harmed in the creation of this chapter.

**Chapter 19 – A Slew of Surprises**

Harry managed to be first into the fireplace at The Leaky Cauldron. When he appeared amidst green flames in the fireplace at the Burrow, he was greeted with a very enthusiastic "SURPRISE!"

"Not now you bloody idiots! Draco's coming through next, and then my unc… er, Professor Marion," Harry said irritably. It was hard to shift back from calling his uncle by name to calling him what he was known as to the world at large.

"Oooo…someone's a little pissy aren't they?" Seamus yelled from the back of the kitchen.

"Oh, shut it. I'm not in the mood," Harry shot back.

"I think someone hasn't been getting any," Dean Thomas joined the conversation.

Harry just rolled his eyes, "Stupid wanker," he grumbled. The dark-haired Gryffindor took his place next to Ron and Hermione.

"Was the shopping trip everything you hoped it would be?" Ron asked in mock innocence as Harry stood next to him, still grumbling under his breath.

"It was bloody worse," Harry replied as the fire flashed green again. Everyone suddenly got very quiet as Draco appeared in the grate.

The silence lasted just long enough to make sure it was really the birthday boy.

"SURPRISE!" This time the crowd was even more enthusiastic, as there was no chance for error.

Draco was in just as bad a mood as Harry, and having to travel by Floo did not improve his disposition. 'It's so….plebian, and I always get soot on my robes,' the blonde boy thought irritatedly as he tried to brush the ashes from his shoulders. It was then that the crowd had yelled, and Draco realized he wasn't quite alone.

Draco looked around wide-eyed, and realized that the Burrow was really quite crowded. The kitchen was absolutely packed. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were off to one side, positively beaming, and Ivy was next to them! Draco was overjoyed to see his sister, but wondered how she had managed to get away from the manor.

Draco didn't have much more opportunity to see who else was there, as Harry's uncle chose that particular moment to Floo in, whereas Draco had been surprised enough that he still hadn't moved from the grate. The net effect was that when everything was said and done, Draco and Harry's uncle were lying in a disheveled sooty heap on the floor of the kitchen.

"Ugh…Happy Birthday, Draco," Harry's uncle said weakly, trying to untangle himself enough to sit up. "Admittedly, that wasn't the best entrance I've ever made."

The professor didn't have much chance to get back on his feet, as Seamus and Dean, seeing an opportunity to make a bit of mischief, traded a glance and yelled "Dog pile!" They then proceeded to jump on top of Draco and Professor Marion. The rest of the students, at least those who had some muggle blood, joined in immediately while those of pure blood looked on in shock.

It was quite a few minutes later that Draco and the professor managed to push everyone off of them and they stood there surveying the crowd, looking terribly disheveled and dusty. Harry walked up to his blond friend, who appeared to be confused and trying his best to hold several conflicting emotions in check. "Happy Birthday Draco. We thought that you'd probably never had a real party…" Many of the students laughed at Harry's comment. "So we thought we'd throw you a little surprise party."

Harry turned to address the crowd at large. "Ok everyone, listen up. Hermione's going to explain how this works, since I've been entertaining His Majesty all day." Everyone chuckled at Harry's joke, except of course for Draco, who was looking annoyed.

Hermione took over the instructions, "There's food and drinks in both the living room and the pavilion out back, which is magically heated. Also, for those of you who are spending the night, boys will be in the pavilion, girls in the house, so put your stuff in the right place. Ask one of us if you need help, and enjoy the party

At this pronouncement, people started milling around happily. Harry noticed Ron making a beeline for the food in the living room, dragging Hermione along behind. Seamus and Dean had decided to head out to check out the pavilion. They had a ragtag group of younger Gryffindors tagging along. Molly Weasley had started bustling about the kitchen once more.

Harry turned to Draco, who was staring at the proceedings silently, his eyes wide. "Uh, Draco? Maybe you should breathe." Harry elbowed the blonde boy in the ribs.

Draco turned and glared at Harry, who began to fidget. "I can't decide if I should be pissed off or happy that you guys threw me a surprise party."

"Well," another voice said, "I would have thought that you would have been at least a bit happy to see your favorite sister." Ivy walked over and gave her elder brother a hug and then gave Harry one as well, which of course caused the dark-haired boy to blush crimson.

"You're my only sister, Ivy," Draco said dryly, looking curiously from his sister to Harry and back. Ivy shot Draco a withering glance causing the elder Malfoy sibling to quickly modify his statement, "not that it means you're not my favorite also, of course." Ivy smiled sweetly at her brother.

"Wow. I need to learn how to do that," Harry said. "I've never seen Draco look so cowed before."

Harry's uncle couldn't help but laugh, then he politely excused himself to see if he could help Mrs. Weasley with the food.

Draco turned back to Harry, beaming, "Thanks for throwing the party, Harry. You were right, I've never had a real party. The only kind we ever had at Malfoy Manor were really formal dinner parties. They're very dry for a kid, you know."

Harry blushed slightly again, "Oh, well, it was nothing. We just thought you'd enjoy it."

"How did you get all these people to show up?" Draco asked frowning.

"Well, we just sent out invitations. They all said they'd be here." Harry shrugged.

"Yes, but I'm not exactly Mr. Popular at school you know, especially since the majority of the students are from Gryffindor."

Harry looked slightly uncomfortable. "Ah well, you'd be surprised at how fond most of the students in our house have become of you. Oddly enough, they seem to enjoy having you around when you're not trying to curse their socks off or anything like that." Harry dropped his voice and looked at Draco in a conspiratorial manner, "In fact, there's been talk of making you an honorary Gryffindor and everything."

Draco looked horrified at the thought until he realized Harry was joking. The Boy-Who-Lived just couldn't keep a straight face, and both he and Ivy burst out laughing. "Come on," he said. "Let's go see what's happening in the pavilion." Harry, Draco, and Ivy made their way outside.

The pavilion was one of those marvels of the magical world. The Weasleys had a rather large garden out back of the house, but Mr. Weasley had erected what looked like a three-person tent. In fact, calling it a tent was really quite generous, it was more likely a canopy that happened to have enough material to reach down to the ground. It was a pale lavender color, which did not help its ragtag appearance.

The three students all traded dubious glances as they approached the tent. Harry tentatively lifted the flap to let Ivy and Draco through, and then entered himself. The inside of the tent was as different from the exterior as was possible. The interior of the tent appeared to be at least 40 feet square, and it was divided in quarters. One quadrant had a small table of refreshments with folding chairs, another quadrant had several comfortable looking couches facing each other, while the third held what looked like a dance floor. The fourth quadrant was largely unoccupied – it appeared to have nothing but sleeping bags in it. Harry guessed that it was probably where Mr. Weasley planned for the boys to crash later.

At that moment, the pavilion was largely uncrowded, with the majority of those present clustered around the food. It appeared that no one felt like dancing or sitting, and thus were content to graze on the snacks until it was time for the real meal. Draco, Harry, and Ivy made their way casually over to the refreshments, and they were soon absorbed in various conversations; catching up with friends about their holidays and plans for the new term.

It was not too much later that Mrs. Weasley called everyone back into the house for the meal. Because of the number of students, it wasn't really possible for everyone to sit down at a table to eat, so dinner ended up being a rather informal affair, with everyone helping themselves to a buffet. Large trays of food had been enchanted to circle in set paths through the house so that people would be able to eat as much as they liked, and these floating platters combined with Fred and George's singing birthday speakers meant that the air was quite full of inanimate objects that one had to mind so as not to dislodge food or mess up a speaker – they had a tendency to get even more lewd when they were jostled about. Colin Creevey seemed to be everywhere taking pictures, a fact which surprised no one and annoyed everyone.

Some time later, after people were feeling sufficiently stuffed from all the food, Harry called everyone into the living room. Surprisingly, he didn't say anything, but the reason for this became obvious. Mrs. Weasley appeared in short order carrying a huge white sheet cake with "Happy Birthday Draco!" in green letters across it, and fourteen silver, green, and black candles placed around the lettering.

Mrs. Weasley set the cake down on the coffee table. "OK, Draco, blow out the candles," Harry said expectantly.

Draco looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"What do you mean, what do you mean?" Harry frowned.

Draco's expression had gone from confused to annoyed. "Well, I thought it was pretty clear. What do you mean 'blow out the candles?'"

"Er…well, did you never have a cake for your birthday?"

"Merlin's beard, no! We always had puddings or parfaits or mousses or stuff like that. Mother would never have dreamed of serving something so mundane as a cake," Draco sniffed.

"Well," Harry said, getting exasperated himself, "you're going to be mundane this year. This is a birthday cake, and it's the custom to make a wish and then blow out the candles. Honestly."

"Oh. Right. Ok," Draco looked around uncertainly for a moment, then took a deep breath and blew out all of the candles on the cake. Everyone broke out in enthusiastic applause, and Mrs. Weasley began cutting and serving the cake, with the help of Hermione and Ginny.

"Er, you wouldn't mind if I had a corner piece, would you? I, well, I rather like frosting, but mother wouldn't ever let me have too much." Draco asked sheepishly.

"Oh, of course deary!" Mrs. Weasley beamed. "You're the birthday boy, so you get your pick!" She served Draco a very large corner piece of the cake, which turned out to be plain yellow cake and buttercream frosting.

"Thanks!" Draco immediately gave over to satisfying his sweet tooth. The rest of the guests were served in short order and everyone resumed chatting and eating.

* * *

It was beginning to get late, and the party was starting to wind down a bit. There was still music playing in the pavilion, but it wasn't the loud obnoxious kind that had been predominant earlier in the evening. Some of the younger kids were beginning to talk about going to bed when Fred and George entered the pavilion, grinning ear to ear, and asked for everyone's attention. 

"My esteemed brother and I," Fred said in his best formal voice as he bowed to his brother, who returned the gesture, "have prepared a special presentation in honor of young Master Malfoy's birthday."

"Indeed we have, brother mine." George agreed. "Now, while many of you have seen fireworks before, and some of you have even seen Weasley fireworks before, we're fairly certain that none of you have seen a fully-coordinated Fred and George Weasley fireworks display!" As George finished his pronouncement, a loud bang was heard and there was a bright flash of light just outside the pavilion.

Everyone rushed to the entrance of the pavilion and looked outside. Fireworks were igniting in the cold December sky. Everyone still in the house had moved to the windows and doors to look out on the spectacle as well.

Fred and George had really done an excellent job of it, Harry thought. Harry had seen many fireworks shows (albeit through the bars on the window of his bedroom), and none were like this one, not even the one that Bill and Charlie had put on at the Burrow two summers ago. It seemed like the display went on forever, with reds, blues, greens, yellows and whites bursting into the chilly air in amazing shapes, sounds, and colors. The grand finale was so loud that many of the younger students covered their ears, and the fireworks show ended with a bang, literally, as a dragon-shaped firework strafed the crowd before disintegrating into the words "Happy Birthday Draco."

Harry looked over at the blonde Slytherin and saw a look of pure joy on his friend's face. For once, Draco was the center of attention, but in a way completely different than he had ever been before, and he loved it.

After the fireworks show, people did begin to settle down for the night, as it was very late. Most of the younger students went home by floo, but most of the students in fourth year, as well as the older ones stayed for the night. Ivy had already returned to Malfoy Manor sometime earlier so as not to arouse suspicion with her father. As Ginny and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were getting everyone situated, Ron, Harry, and Hermione grabbed Draco and guided him into a back room off the kitchen.

"Have you had a good time, Draco?" Hermione asked. The Golden Trio looked expectantly at the recent addition to their informal club.

Draco looked at his three friends. Suddenly, he found himself rather uncertain as to how to respond. "Well, yes, I am."

"That didn't sound very convincing, mate," Ron said with a frown.

"Er, well, it's just that I've never had a party like this for my birthday, and I'm having a blast, but I'm just not used to people doing things for me, so it makes me a little uncomfortable. That's all."

"Oh, Draco, don't worry about it," Hermione said, looking at the Slytherin with a fond expression. "We know you have some weird sense of honor, but we're your _friends_, and we wanted to do this for you, alright?"

"Ok," Draco nodded happily.

"We've got you a little something for your birthday," Harry said, taking up the conversation.

"What? You weren't supposed to do that," Draco protested.

"Maybe not, but we wanted to," Harry countered as he handed Draco a small velvet-covered box.

Draco accepted the box, his eyes lit up like a child's a Christmas. He would be the first to tell you that he loved surprises, especially surprise presents. He opened the box to find a gold bar about 3 inches long and one-quarter inch wide with a clip on either end. Engraved on the clip was a dragon breathing fire.

"Wow," Draco breathed as he lifted the clip out of the box and turned it over. Engraved on the back was an inscription: _To our new friend – Happy 14th birthday RW HG HP_

"It's a clasp for your robes," Hermione said helpfully. "We know you've probably already got plenty, but, well, it just seemed to fit. Ivy helped pick it out."

"It's bloody perfect. Wow. Thanks." To the three Gryffindors, Draco seemed appropriately pleased and grateful, and they chose to take the blond boy at face value.

"You're welcome!" They said in unison, and the prerequisite group hug ensued – even Ron took part.

A bit later, Draco lay in his sleeping bag on the floor of the pavilion, Ron on one side, Harry on the other, thinking about his fourteenth birthday. If you had told him a year before what it was going to be like, he would have sneered. It was all very strange he decided, but for the first time in a long while, he felt comfortable with who he was, and he also knew that he had three friends he could depend on.

* * *

The next morning, everyone got up at their leisure. Mrs. Weasley had put everyone on notice that everyone was responsible for their own breakfast, and as the majority of the students had to be home early, they elected to eat at home. Soon, it was just the Weasleys, Harry, Hermione, Draco, and Professor Marion in the Burrow, which seemed strangely empty. 

They were all sitting around the kitchen table nursing cups of coffee (Harry, Draco and Professor Marion) or tea (everyone else).

"Well, I suppose we should begin taking down the birthday decorations and putting up the Christmas decorations," Harry's uncle said conversationally.

"When does the rest of the family arrive, uncle?" Harry asked.

"I expect them sometime Christmas Eve. They're going to Glastonbury Tor before they come here." The kids at the table all exchanged knowing glances, but said nothing.

"Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but I have to begin cooking Christmas dinner," Mrs. Weasley said, getting up from the table. "Ginny, Hermione, why don't you two help me?"

"Er, OK, Mum, but do we really want to leave all the decorating to the boys?" Ginny asked with a frown.

Mrs. Weasley looked thoughtful, "Hmmm….you have a point dear, maybe you two can pop in on them occasionally."

Everyone else got up from the table and went about their appointed tasks. Everyone seemed to be making a good time of it; Ron was nearly jubilant when it came time to tear down the green and silver streamers all over the house. Fred and George wanted to do everything magically, but Mrs. Weasley reminded them that they were still underage.

Harry noticed that Draco seemed oddly detached from everything that was going on, almost as if the blond boy was deep in thought about something. Harry was right. Draco had been doing a lot of thinking since the party. Draco had been given many parties before, but they were always very formal affairs and anyone that attended didn't really seem happy to be there; certainly not any of his "friends" from Slytherin house. This party was really different. For one thing, it was much more relaxed. That made it easier for Draco to loosen up and enjoy himself. He also found it hard to believe that all those people were there at the party because they wanted to be. How many times had he made fun of Neville Longbottom for being unable to make a decent potion, or Colin Creevey for his blasted picture-taking. That didn't even take into account the enmity he'd had with Ron, Harry, and Hermione.

The more Draco thought about how well everyone had been treating him since he had "changed sides" the worse he felt about how he'd treated those same people for the last three years. Soon Draco was in a full-fledged depression. All he could think about was how awful a person he was. Harry and Hermione picked up on the fact that something was wrong, but they weren't sure what, or what to do about it.

* * *

The Taylors, even Brent and Jason, had enjoyed their visit to England thus far. Mr. Taylor had insisted that they remain inconspicuous, and thus they were traveling by car. They had visited Stonehenge yesterday and had spent the night in a little bed and breakfast near Glastonbury Tor. They would make a quick stop there before heading to the Burrow to meet Brandon and his biological nephew Harry, whom the boys were excited to meet. 

"But, he's famous!" Jason said.

"I don't care if he's the King of England, Jason, he's your cousin, and I'm sure he's completely normal," Athena responded. This was the eighth time this week they'd had this conversation.

Jason and Brent both snorted. "Completely normal! He defeated Voldemort twice by the time he was twelve. How can that be normal?"

"Fine, Jason, you win," Athena gave up. "He's not normal, and I'm sure he's going to love it when you go all starry-eyed when you meet him. Just remember you're related to him, so you might as well get used to being related to a celebrity."

"This is so cool!"

Athena rolled her eyes.

"Look boys, there's the Tor!" David said, hoping to stem the rising tide of frustration in the muggle vehicle. They had rounded a bend in the road, and on the horizon the hill that was Glastonbury Tor appeared with the lonely tower on top. "We'll be there shortly," David added happily, looking forward to being out of the car.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was also rapidly approaching Glastonbury Tor, with a group of Death Eaters in tow. They had decided to stick with the plan of going in full-bore, wands blazing, so to speak, while Lucius made a run for the Dragon's Tear, which he assumed was somewhere in the Tor. Lucius was also on the lookout for that prick Brandon Potter's adopted family. His sources had told him they would be visiting the Tor today, and both he and the Dark Lord had grudges to settle with the Potter clan – this would simply be the opening gambit, if all went according to plan. 

Lucius and his group had been staked out in the forest surrounding the Tor, watching and waiting for the right moment to launch their assault. Given that it was Christmas Eve, not many people were out visiting the Tor, which under normal circumstances was a rather crowded place, as it held great historical significance in the wizarding world.

Lucius Malfoy was not really concerned about all of this. He only wanted two things at the moment: the Dragon's Tear and the Potter brat's family dead. He did not have long to wait, as it was only a couple of minutes later that the Taylors pulled up and parked. They got out and stretched, and began to look around the site, as if trying to figure out what to do next.

"Should we go now?" A voice came from somewhere behind Lucius.

"Not yet, you fool. Wait until they appear to have made a decision as to what to do, then we can catch them unaware." Silence was the only response.

Lucius and his Death Eaters continued to watch the Taylor family.

* * *

"Ok, now what?" Brent grumbled. He hated riding in the car with his brother, and not only had they been doing a lot of that lately, but cars seemed to be a lot smaller in Europe. 

"Now we look at the Tor. I'm sure there's a way to get inside," David responded tersely.

"Maybe there's a place we can pick up a guidebook or something?" Athena suggested tentatively.

Jason had been looking around the Tor. History had never done much for him, but he always felt an affinity for old things and places and there seemed to be something especially significant about this place. It was as if he could feel the magic and the weight of the ages oozing from the cracks in the wood and stone.

Just then, Jason noticed a snake gliding through the grass on the other side of the parking lot. Jason loved snakes – he had one at home for a pet, but this one was a kind he had never seen before. He immediately went over to investigate. By the time Jason caught up with the snake, who seemed oddly unperturbed to have a human following it, he had wound around to the far side of the Tor. He looked at it closely for several minutes – it was coiled on a rock, warming itself in the feeble winter sunlight. Suddenly, Jason heard a lot of yelling and shouting and screaming coming from the other side of the Tor, and he immediately ran back to see what was going on.

There was utter chaos in the parking lot. Several people, dressed in dark robes were fleeing; one of them seemed to be carrying something wrapped in a cloth in his arms like a football. Several other people were milling around, looking scared and talking about Death Eaters. "Go to the Ministry, now!" he heard someone say hysterically. Jason looked around for his family, but didn't see them anywhere. Suddenly, it was quiet – deathly quiet, and he wondered what had just happened.

Slowly, as if in a dream, Jason made his way to the entrance of the tower that stood at the crown of the Tor. The sense of power and ancient magic increased the closer he got to the entrance. Passing through the entrance, Jason noted the walls were carved in what must have been scenes from ancient history – here a battle, there a coronation, elsewhere a scene from a market. Jason rounded a corner into the center of the tower – an open room with a high ceiling, and he stopped cold. There lying on the floor, expressions of surprise on their faces were his father, mother, and brother. Jason knew immediately that they were dead.

* * *

Draco continued to mope around the Burrow all the next day, and the morning of Christmas Eve. Even Ron had picked up on it, and it was decided (by Ginny, Hermione and Harry), that Ron could be the one to talk to Draco. 

Ron was less than enthusiastic about this. While he and Draco had become friends, especially after the Death Eater attack on Hogwarts, Ron didn't like to admit it, and he also knew that he still had some lingering issues with Draco. It was hard to hate someone's family, and have their family hate yours for so long, and then just drop the whole thing suddenly.

Thus, it was a very reluctant Ronald that found an equally down-in the mouth Draco sitting in front of the fire after breakfast on Christmas Eve, staring at nothing.

"Er, hullo there, mate. Whatcha doin'?" Ron asked nervously.

Draco looked dully up at the red-headed boy and made a feeble attempt at a smile.

"Lot on your mind?" Ron continued.

Draco sighed and nodded.

Ron sat down with him on the couch, "Look, I'm not really good at this, but Harry, Hermione and I have all noticed you're not feeling up to scratch, and I want to help, we want to help, but we won't know how unless you tell us what's going on."

Draco looked at Ron searchingly for a moment, then said simply, "I feel terrible because of the way I treated all those people who were at the party."

Ron looked at Draco, completely confused. "What? You were fine at the party. Did I miss something?"

Draco sighed again, this time in aggravation. "Really, Weasley, you can be terribly dense sometimes you know? What I mean is, all those people who came to the party weren't forced to come, right?"

Ron looked a bit put out at being called dense, but he bit his tongue, and said, "Yeah, why would they have come if they didn't want to?"

"Because that's how it's always been at parties I've been to before…never mind that. All those people came presumably because they like me and wanted to be here for my birthday," Draco paused and looked inquiringly at Ron, who nodded. "And I treated every single one of those people horribly for three years. I was mean and cruel and…all sorts of other things. But they still came to my party, and I feel like crap because of it."

Draco almost thought he could see the light bulb go off over Ron's head. "OK, you've got a point Draco. You were a prat." Draco frowned, but held his tongue. "But that's just part of being someone's friend. Harry and I are good friends, but we treat each other pretty bad sometimes. Maybe not as bad as you treated some of us before this summer, but still pretty bad. Does it matter? Not really. Why? Because Harry and I are friends, and that means we're willing to forgive and forget, at least eventually, even though it sometimes takes a while to get over things."

Draco didn't look convinced. "But all those people whose lives I made a living hell couldn't have gotten over that."

"They did Draco, that's the point. You changed this summer, and you've proved it to them by the way you're acting and treating them now. They're willing to let bygones be bygones and accept you as you are, so you should accept that also."

"I'm going to have to think about it some more, but I feel better. I suppose what you're saying makes sense in a mushy Gryffindor sort of way."

"That's the spirit, chap!" Ron beamed and clapped Draco on the back. The blonde boy looked a bit perturbed at the gesture, and appeared about to say so, when there was a loud crack and Albus Dumbledore appeared.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, a belated happy birthday, and hello to you as well, Mr. Weasley."

"Hello, sir," the two boys said in unison.

"I wonder if I might speak with Harry's uncle. It is quite urgent."

"Yes, sir. He and Harry are in the attic, looking for the ghoul in the pipes. I'll go fetch him," Ron volunteered.

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley. Do hurry, please."

Ron nodded and ran off up the stairs.

"Is everything alright, Headmaster?" Draco asked, frowning. It was very odd for Dumbledore to seem agitated, as he did now.

"No, Mr. Malfoy, it is not." Dumbledore would not say any more, however, and Draco was at a loss for words himself.

It seemed forever before Harry, Ron, and Harry's uncle reappeared, all looking slightly perplexed.

"Professor Dumbledore, what a pleasant surprise." Brandon Marion said.

"Hello, Brandon. I'm afraid the surprise will quickly turn rather sour. I have some very bad news, and I think you will want to be sitting down."

The looks of confusion became even more intense as everyone found a seat, including the headmaster.

Dumbledore then began to speak in a very hollow, mechanical voice. "Earlier today, Lucius Malfoy, along with a contigent of Death Eaters, raided Glastonbury Tor."

Draco went so pale at hearing this, Harry was afraid the blond boy was going to faint.

Professor Marion was more concerned about other things however. "What about the Dragon's Tear?" He didn't seem particularly concerned that none of the teenagers were supposed to know about the Dragon's Tear.

"Lucius located it and managed to escape with it."

"What? No!" Ron, Harry, and Draco all shouted simultaneously.

"And my family?" Professor Marion asked very softly.

Dumbledore, to his credit, looked the young professor straight in the eyes. "I am sorry, Brandon. David, Athena, and Brent were all killed by the _Avada Kedavra_ curse. Jason was coincidentally elsewhere during the attack and he survived."

The room was silent. Brandon Marion leaned forward and put his head in his hands. Without really thinking about what he was doing, Harry put his hand on his uncle's back, just to let the older man know he had Harry's support.

"Where…where is Jason?" Professor Marion asked in a very shaky voice. Ron and Draco were looking on in complete shock and disbelief.

"Jason is physically fine, but I sent him to Madam Pomfrey at Hogwarts via Portkey and gave him a very strong dreamless sleep potion. He will be fine there for the time being."

"I need to see him."

"And you will. That is one of the reasons I am here. As you know, custody of Brent and Jason was to be yours if anything happened to David and Athena. I have arranged for Jason to start at Hogwarts when the Spring term begins, but I thought you might want to be with him as soon as possible. I think it would be good for you to visit him at Hogwarts tomorrow and perhaps bring him back to the Burrow."

"How was he, before you gave him the potion?" The professor asked.

"He was very much in shock. I do not know how he will fare."

Harry couldn't believe all that he was hearing. His uncle's family had been killed. His family had been killed. Would it ever stop? Why did this have to happen to him? It was bad enough for Harry – he couldn't even begin to imagine what his uncle was going through, and now he had both Harry and Jason to worry about.

"I understand. I'll go see him in the morning. I would like Harry to come along, if he is willing." Harry's uncle gave his nephew a glance. Harry nodded by way of response, as Brandon Marion smiled sadly at his nephew.

"Very well. I'll speak to Arthur and Molly, but then I have many more stops to make. Words are a poor substitute to express my sadness for you, Brandon. I trust you will let me know if I can be of service."

"Yes, Headmaster. Thank you."

Dumbledore nodded and left the four others to their own thoughts.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy sat in his underground study, giddy with pleasure. Resting on a pedestal in front of him was the Dragon's Tear. The pearl was huge – nearly the size of a grapefruit. Lucius couldn't figure out what Arthur would have expected Guinivere to do with it – it was far too large to wear. 

Lucius studied the valuable gem for a moment. Other than the fact that it was larger than any pearl had a right to be, it seemed completely normal to casual inspection. Lucius wondered what powers Merlin could have possibly instilled in the gem. He supposed it really didn't matter, so long as the Dragon's Tear allowed him to play an instrumental role in bringing the Dark Lord back to tangible form.

Lucius then turned his thoughts to more pressing, if not more disturbing matters.

The patriarch of the Malfoy clan needed to contemplate how to deal with not one, but two rebellious teenagers. After Ivy had asked if she could go to Diagon Alley for the day, Lucius had contacted an old friend and fellow Death Eater, Alabaster Schwartz. Alabaster had been more than happy to keep tabs on Ivy, and he had discovered some very interesting things.

It appeared that not only had the bloody Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die managed to corrupt Draco, he was beginning to work on Ivy. The thought of Ivy hanging all over Harry Potter made Lucius so angry, he snapped his second best walking stick in half without realizing it. This served only to make him angrier, but he knew that he shouldn't fly off the handle, at least not yet. He had the Dragon's Tear; Brandon Potter's family was dead, and before long the Dark Lord would return. Then, at his leisure, Lucius could deal with his children. After all, he wouldn't need any heirs once he became immortal and ruled the world along with the Dark Lord.


	20. A Rather Gloomy Holiday

**Auhtor's Note: Hello, sports fans. Here's the latest chapter, I hope you enjoy it! I'm beginning to think that a chapter every other week may become the new standard for posting. Feel free to drop a line with your thoughts! Also, if you've submitted a review and I've not responded to you personally PLEASE let me know. I've moved and had computer issues and may have lost some emails in the process. If you review and give me a way to contact you, I'll commit to responding.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, for Fun, rated 'K+' for implied violence, occasional language, and the odd off-color comment. No veela were harmed in creation of this chapter (like that could happen) but I will issue an non-romantic angst/mush warning for this chapter only! Now that you're prepared read on and enjoy!**

**Chapter 20 – A Rather Gloomy Holiday**

Brandon Marion had lain awake most of the night, not really thinking about anything consciously, but he knew that deep down his subconscious was processing furiously.

Sometime during the night, Brandon didn't really remember when, the door to his bedroom had creaked open and a pair of green eyes peered through the crack. "Uncle, are you asleep?" A voice said tentatively.

"No, Harry. Come on in," was the professor's soft response. Brandon's nephew padded in quietly. Brandon looked dully at the teenager, his closest relative still living, not that there were an over-abundance of those; Voldemort had seen to that. It was hard for the young professor to believe that Harry was fourteen. It seemed like only yesterday Brandon had watched his brother carrying Harry around the kitchen at their home in Godric's Hollow, singing happily to the messy-haired baby. Now, Harry was nearly as tall as his uncle, and just as everyone said, looked remarkably like his father.

"I couldn't sleep either," Harry said, rather pointlessly.

"Well, we might as well suffer insomnia together." Brandon sat up so that he was leaning against the headboard, while Harry sat down on the opposite edge of the bed. "Were Ron and Draco asleep?"

"Both snoring like goblins with head colds," Harry half-smiled, then looking sideways at his uncle, climbed into bed as well.

Brandon was somewhat surprised. "I know you're way too young to remember this Harry, but when you were a baby, and I was not even your age, I would go visit your father and mother sometimes on weekends when I was at Hogwarts."

Harry looked up in interest at his uncle. "I don't remember that at all."

"I didn't think you would. Anyway, your mother came from a muggle family, as you know, and so there was a television in the house. Your father and I were fascinated by the blasted thing and would watch muggle soccer…er, football matches on Saturday afternoons, and you would sit in my lap and doze off. Invariably, all your father and I would soon follow suit, and we'd all be asleep before the half. Your mother would sneak in and turn off the TV and let us sleep until it was time for dinner."

Harry couldn't help but laugh at the mental image of his dad and his uncle asleep on couches in front of the TV.

Professor Marion continued, "It's hard to believe you're almost grown." The older man frowned, and continued in a more serious tone, "I suppose I haven't done a very good job protecting my family thus far, Harry, but I want you to know that as long as there's breath in my body I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."

Harry knew his uncle was dead serious, and responded with a nod.

"Well, no sense in being all morbid. Did I ever tell you about the time your father and Sirius convinced me that Blast-Ended Skrewts would make good pets and that I should bring a couple home to take care of over the summer?"

Harry laughed again and shook his head, while the professor launched into stories of times long past. Some time later, Brandon Marion looked down to see his nephew asleep with his head against the older man's shoulder. Smiling sadly, Brandon Marion pulled a blanket over his nephew and went back to his subconscious ponderings.

* * *

Christmas morning dawned grey and gloomy, an eerie reflection of the general mood in the Burrow. Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Ginny came down the stairs for breakfast to find that Harry and his uncle were still missing. Mr. Weasley was reading the _Daily Prophet, _Mrs. Weasley was cooking breakfast. Fred and George were sitting at the table, bleary-eyed and not really conscious. 

"They haven't left yet, have they Mrs. Weasley?" Draco asked, somewhat surprised.

"No deary, I think they're still asleep." She was just brewing coffee, and Draco looked torn between grabbing the first cup and figuring out where his friend was.

"Harry wasn't in our room when we woke up this morning," Ron frowned.

"We better go wake them up. They'll need to be leaving soon," Hermione said.

"Hang on a sec," Draco said. He went over to the counter to fix three cups of coffee. He left one on the kitchen table, and carried the other two with him. "It'll be better this way. Trust me." Everyone else in the room laughed, as they knew exactly what Draco meant.

The four teenagers crept quietly up the stairs, and down the hallway to Percy's bedroom. Percy had been staying at the Ministry with the recent Death Eater attacks, and Professor Marion was in his room. Hermione was nearest the door, so she tapped lightly then slowly cracked it open. Harry and his uncle had both fallen asleep. Both were still sitting up, which Hermione thought must have been uncomfortable, and Harry was nestled against his uncle, who had his arm around his nephew.

A faint "Awww," escaped from Hermione's lips, which caused Ginny, Ron, and Draco to bustle against each other trying to get into the room. Ginny sighed as well when she saw Brandon and Harry asleep. Ron and Draco seemed significantly less appreciative, though Ron did say that he was glad Harry had finally found some family. Everyone else agreed.

The additional noise of four extra people caused Brandon Marion to wake up, and he looked around the room, slightly disoriented, as his neck popped from sleeping in such an uncomfortable position.

"Ow!" he exclaimed loudly, which caused Harry to wake up as well.

"Eurgh….what's going on, uncle?" He said sleepily.

"Nothing, Harry. It's morning, and we have company." He did not sound overly pleased at being woken.

Draco rushed forward with the coffee and managed to stammer out, "Er…breakfast is ready, and we brought you coffee." He sounded as if he were thinking wistfully of the cup waiting for him downstairs.

Brandon Marion looked at Draco, one eyebrow raised, while the other three teenagers hovered behind the blonde boy. "Thank you, Draco. We'll be down in just a minute."

"Er, yes sir," Draco said quickly. The four friends turned and left as quickly as was reasonable. Harry's uncle was even worse than Draco in the morning.

"OK, sleepyhead, up you get. We need some breakfast."

"Mmph…just a few more minutes," the dark-haired Gryffindor rolled over and pulled the blanket over his head.

Apparently, Professor Marion's foul morning moods were not reserved for his nephew, as with a mischievous smile, the young professor began to tickle his nephew. "No sir. We're going to breakfast. Everyone is waiting."

Tickling did it. Harry fairly shot out of bed, then jumped again as his feet hit the cold floor. Professor Marion laughed, and thus it was that a very grumpy Harry Potter and a relatively cheery Brandon Potter appeared at breakfast, each carrying their steaming mugs of coffee. They sat down at the table and breakfast began in earnest.

Breakfast was a quiet affair, as everyone was mulling over the events of the prior day. No one seemed particularly willing to speak, and certainly not willing to voice the questions they all had. Finally, Brandon cleared his voice and said, "I'm not sure I have all the details worked out, but I think it will come as a surprise to most of you to learn that I think Jason is actually Arthur Weasley's second cousin."

"What?" Ron exclaimed.

Everyone looked up surprised at the professor, who continued, "Check me on this to see if I'm right. My grandmother Potter, whose maiden name was Marion, had a sister – my Great Aunt Penelope - who married Josiah Taylor. David Taylor…" Brandon found it difficult to talk about his cousin in the past tense, "er, David was Penelope and Josiah's oldest son, and he married Athena, and Brent and Jason are their children." The professor paused again, both to gather his thoughts, and to keep his composure. It was hard to talk about his dead family.

"We're with you so far, chap." Arthur said encouragingly.

"Josiah Taylor had a sister, Eugenia, who married Alistair Weasley, your parents."

"By George, you're right! That makes Jason my second cousin, and the third cousin of all the kids." Arthur exclaimed.

"I wish people wouldn't use my name in vain like that! Honestly," George said, surfacing momentarily from his stupor. Everyone laughed.

"Wow," Ginny said.

Brandon couldn't help but smile. "I think it'll make more sense when you meet him," he said cryptically.

Draco joined the conversation. "Doesn't that also mean that the Potters and the Weasleys are related?"

The adults looked thoughtful for a moment. Molly spoke first, "Technically yes, dear, but because there are two different marriages involved it's a very distant relation."

"Blimey, I'm confused," Ron said.

"Shocker, that," Draco interjected quickly, earning a glare from the redhead.

"But it's cool to have another cousin," Ron continued. When will we meet him?"

This question had the unhappy effect of turning the conversation back to more serious matters. "Harry and I will go to Hogwarts today after breakfast to be there when Jason wakes up."

"Do you want anyone else to come along?" Hermione asked.

Harry and his uncle traded a glance. Harry would have liked to have company, but his uncle seemed to think differently, "I think it would be best if it's just the two of us. There will be plenty of time to get to know Jason when we bring him back here. Which reminds me," the professor turned to Arthur and Molly. "I really don't know how to thank the two of you for being so hospitable over the years to Harry, and now to me. I'm afraid I must beg your indulgence for a little bit longer."

Molly Weasley tutted and wouldn't hear of it, "You are family after all," she said with a smile. "And by Gilderoy's Garter it's Christmas of all days! You two hurry up and be on your way so we can get ready to celebrate!" Everyone seemed to have forgotten it was Christmas, and the reminder served to cheer them up.

"Alright, Molly we'll get going, and thank you." Brandon smiled at the red-headed woman.

A short time later, Harry and Brandon were ready to floo to Hogsmeade, and then to walk to the castle. Harry's friends had pulled him aside and given him a bit of a pep talk as he seemed really quite somber about the whole situation. "It'll be OK, Harry. Your uncle's a good guy, and he'll take care of you."

"I know, but I've never met Jason, and now his family has been killed. What do I say? How do I act?"

"Oh, Harry, you don't necessarily have to say or do anything. Just be available," Hermione added.

"Yeah, mate, besides, he's part-Weasley, so you know he's made of strong stuff," Ron added. Draco just snorted, which earned him yet another glare from the red-headed boy.

"Harry, you ready?" Brandon's voice came from in the kitchen.

"Yes sir," he said loudly. "See you guys later," he said to his friends, and without another word, he turned and left.

* * *

Harry and his uncle appeared nearly instantaneously in the fireplace of the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade village. "I hate traveling by Floo," the professor grumbled as they brushed themselves off. Harry couldn't help but chuckle as he felt exactly the same way. "Well," Harry's uncle continued, "I guess we best get a move on." 

Harry smiled at his uncle in a way that he hoped looked confident and nodded. They exited the Three Broomsticks and out into the weak winter sunlight. It seemed very bright, most likely because of the snow on the ground. It was unusual for the sun to be out during the winter this far north, and the brightness of the landscape contrasted with the darkness of the moods of the two figures making the trek to Hogwarts.

Just past the edge of the village, Harry spoke up, "Uncle, are you OK?"

They were walking along a narrow footpath up the hill to the castle. Brandon stopped suddenly, so much so that Harry nearly barreled into him. The elder Potter turned and looked piercingly at his nephew, who fidgeted nervously. After a moment, the professor relented, and he let out a breath, his shoulders sagging. "No, Harry, I'm not. To be honest, I was only beginning to get a handle on my new life, and having to at least quasi-care for you, and now I've been thrown another loop. I don't honestly know what we'll do, but we'll manage somehow."

Harry was rather surprised at how affectionate he had felt toward his uncle lately but even so, he quickly gave his uncle a hug. "I think you're doing great, Uncle Brandon. It feels good to have a real family." The professor had to let go of his nephew long enough to wipe the tears out of his eyes, and freshly encouraged, they continued to make their way to the castle.

Hogwarts castle, though decorated for the holiday, seemed eerily cold and quiet without the normal bustle of students. It seemed even more strange that no one was there to greet them at the entrance.

"We're not really guests," Harry suggested, "so maybe they think we just know what we're supposed to do?"

"You have your map? I still think you should let me have it, by the way. Merlin knows I nicked it from James enough times when we were kids. He should have given it to me."

"No way! Besides, it's at the Burrow with my stuff."

"Well, when in doubt, go to the Headmaster's office."

They arrived at the phoenix statue in short order. "Er…Harry, I've forgotten the password."

The dark-haired teenager rolled his eyes, "Honestly, uncle, isn't it still 'Gobstopper?'"

The statue began to move, and soon the pair were knocking on the door to Dumbledore's office.

"Do come in," came the familiar voice.

Harry and his uncle entered the Headmaster's office, and to their surprise found Remus Lupin taking his leave of the Headmaster.

"Professor Lupin!" Harry exclaimed.

"Why, hello Harry! It's very good to see you." Harry noted that Professor Lupin looked as if he had filled out some, and was glad that his old professor seemed to be doing well. Remus looked at Brandon and said pleasantly, "I don't believe we've met." He extended his hand.

Brandon Potter cast a quick look at Dumbledore who nodded, "Actually, I believe we have. My name is Brandon Marion, but you would probably remember me as Brandon Potter," he smiled encouragingly.

Dumbledore conjured a chair just in time to catch Remus Lupin as he sat down. "Merlin's beard, I do know you!" The werewolf stared in shock for some moments at the brother of his old friend then seemed to regain his composure. He opened his mouth to speak, but Dumbledore raised his hand and interrupted.

"Remus, I know you have many questions, and I know that Brandon would like to answer them, but I'm afraid that now is not quite the time. Do you think you can hold off for a bit? Perhaps you will make a visit to the Burrow on your way to parts unknown?"

"Yes sir, of course. It's not too far out of the way." Remus assented quickly. "I'll be on my way, then. Thank you, headmaster." He then looked at Harry and Brandon. "And don't think that you two are off the hook by any means." The werewolf exited and shut the door behind him.

"Remus is doing some work for me; I am afraid he has found it somewhat difficult to find employment since he left Hogwarts." Dumbledore did not explain further while Harry and his uncle traded a look.

"Please sit down." The two Potters did so. "You will be happy to know that Jason slept the entire night without incident and should be waking up in…" the old man glanced at a very ornate, fancy, and muggle clock on his desk, "one hour."

"Thank you for arranging for his transfer here, Headmaster." Brandon said.

"It was the least I could do, my boy," Harry sniggered at hearing Dumbledore call his uncle 'my boy'. "It also seemed like the best course of action, but now I'm afraid I must ask a couple of difficult questions."

"Alright," Brandon said exchanging yet another look with his nephew, who seemed equally anxious.

"First, I want to ask you how you're doing, and I don't mean in the casual conversational sense. You have had to come to terms with many things recently, and some new responsibilities," here the Headmaster cast a fond glance at Harry, who grew slightly embarrassed, "and it appears as if there is more yet in store for you."

Brandon thought for a long moment before answering, "I will be very candid, Headmaster. Harry and I are both in a rather difficult place at the moment, but we're a family, and we'll get through this too. Voldemort seems determined to take us apart piece by piece, but we're not going to let that happen, are we?"

"No sir," Harry agreed emphatically.

"Jason is going to have a hard time, and I don't pretend to know how he's going to deal with it, nor how we will deal with it, but we are a family, and I think it's important we remain together."

The Headmaster considered this. "I see. Well, I must confess that I am very glad to hear your words, and I do have some concern for you and Harry and Jason. It is all very strange that each of you seem to be the sole survivors from your respective family groupings. Thus the three of you have much in common. It is not generally my policy to delve into the mysteries of Divination; my abilities there are limited at best. However, when I heard of the attack on your cousins, Brandon, I decided to have a go, if you will pardon the colloquialism," the headmaster's eyes twinkled with amusement. "What I found was most interesting. Though Divination is often imprecise with the best of Seers, and certainly more so with myself, I was able to determine that because the three of you, that is you Brandon, you Harry, and Jason have all experienced great loss at the hand of Voldemort, so must all three of you ultimately be involved in his defeat. What form this takes, or what this means, I cannot say, for Voldemort has yet to assume bodily form again, though I think he will very soon," the Headmaster added darkly. "I have further reason to believe that Harry must ultimately be at the center of this conflict, for reasons which I prefer not to state explicitly just yet. I think it is safe to assume that since Draco has set himself against his father in this battle, he will be instrumental as well."

"You think Voldemort's coming back?" Harry exclaimed. It did not seem to register with him or Brandon what Dumbledore had said about their involvement with Voldemort.

"Yes, Harry, I do. You see, he now has the Dragon's Tear, and he has already tried to come back several times, though he has been thwarted through your efforts. With Draco's defection, Voldemort has a very pliable and eager lieutenant in Lucius Malfoy. The time is ripe for him to pick up where he left off so many years ago. This leads to my second question, Brandon. What are your intentions?"

Brandon Potter sat again in silence for some time, thinking. "I had hoped to settle down and enjoy a quiet life with my nephew and start a family. I think that is something Harry would like as well. That will have to include Jason now as well, but it appears that fate has dictated something else for us in the meantime. What are my intentions? I can't imagine that we, as in me, Harry, and Jason, would consider anything but being right in the middle of things." Brandon looked at his nephew with a questioning look.

Harry looked a bit scared, but nodded in agreement.

Dumbledore sighed, "Very well. That is how I was both hopeful and afraid that you would answer. I had hoped to be able to give the remnants of the Potter family some modicum of peace, but it appears that is not to be the case. Much is still hidden from me, and will be determined by the course of future events. It is good, however, to know that I have your support."

"One moment, Headmaster, if you please?" Harry spoke up suddenly.

"Yes, Harry?" Dumbledore said calmly.

The raven-haired boy took a deep breath and glanced at his uncle, who was looking at the boy with a bemused expression. "You do have our support, and we appreciate all you've done for our family over the years, but you've also been pretty stingy with information. It may be that you're trying to protect us, but sometimes I think it would be better to know everything no matter how terrible than it would be to be clueless. At least then we could deal with things rather than having to guess. So, I guess, what I'm saying is, I would feel better, and I think my uncle would too, if you could see your way to just telling us anything that might concern us rather than making decisions for us, and then telling us after the fact."

"I see." The Headmaster, for once, also seemed rather bemused. "It would appear, Harry, that you have your uncle's penchant for being just slightly stubborn. Well, that's not a bad thing. You have a good point, and though I have always acted in your best interests, perhaps it is time I let clan Potter resume the management of its own affairs. I will think on what you have said. In the meantime, perhaps we should discuss matters of equal import, but slightly narrower implication: Jason Taylor."

"Yes, sir, what did you have in mind?" Brandon asked. He, too, was surprised at Harry's outburst, and needed to think about that as well. He was proud of his nephew.

"Jason has just turned fifteen, has he not?" The headmaster asked.

"Sweet mother of potatoes, yes, and I completely forgot his birthday!" Brandon smacked himself on the forehead, while Harry just looked on in horror and Dumbledore in amusement.

"As I was saying, Jason has just turned fifteen, and was in ninth grade at his school in the United States. That would be equivalent to our fourth year here, so that is where I would like to place him. Plus, having his very distant cousins in the same year could prove beneficial. He will be slightly old for his year, but my understanding is that this was the case in the States as well."

"That's correct. Students born after a certain date end up waiting a year to start school."

"Very well. What do you want to do about moving his things? I believe that he was here on vacation, and given that you are now his guardian -" that particular thought tickled something in Harry's brain – "you'll need to make arrangements to have his belongings moved here."

"Yes sir, I imagine I'll be needing to make a visit to the house to settle things there anyway. And it would be good for me to check on my own place as well." Brandon did not sound excited about this prospect.

"I know this is difficult, Brandon. Please let me know how I can help."

"I will sir. I'll plan to have Jason's belongings here before the start of the new term."

"There is no need to rush, but if you feel that would be best, then by all means…"

"Thank you, sir."

"Er, Headmaster, something you said got me thinking," Harry interjected once more.

"What is it, Harry?" Dumbledore looked as if he knew what the teenager was thinking.

"Who's my guardian now, sir? Is it still the Dursleys?"

"Yes it is. I suppose we need to do something about that don't we?" the Headmaster smiled. So did Harry and Brandon. "Which reminds me, Brandon, well, and Harry. We will need to talk about what to do with all of your estates and such. I am currently executor, but I think that can be changed as well."

"Of course," Brandon agreed.

"Well, I suppose it's about time to go meet Jason. Shall we?"

"One last question, Headmaster," Brandon held up a finger. "What do you think about dropping the illusion of my identity? It seems that the point of that was to prevent Voldemort and the Death Eaters from finding out who I really was. They obviously know, and I think it would simplify my life, and Harry's greatly, if I became Brandon Potter again."

Dumbledore considered this for quite some time. "There is something in me that says it would not be a good idea just yet, Brandon, but in my old age I simply can not put my finger on what that might be. Your name is your identity, and it seems to me you have denied that far too long. Perhaps it would be for the best." Harry and Brandon exchanged broad smiles at this.

"We don't have to pretend any more!" Harry exclaimed happily.

"Now, perhaps we can see to your new charge," Dumbledore said cheerily as he rose from behind the desk. The trio exited the office and made their way toward the infirmary.

* * *

Everyone at the Burrow was doing their best to get ready for Christmas even though no one particularly felt like celebrating. Mrs. Weasley was cooking up a storm, as usual, and everyone else was decorating, or trying to be secret about wrapping presents. 

Remus Lupin arrived, much to the surprise of the Burrow's erstwhile inhabitants, and noted the somber mood. Arthur Weasley pulled him aside and filled him in on everything that had happened. Remus agreed to stick around for the holiday – he had no one else to spend it with at any rate. Soon he was helping with the decorations as well.

"I wonder how Harry and his uncle are doing," Ron said to Draco as they tried to untangle several garlands to hang throughout the house.

Draco was still working on his coffee and was therefore not in the best of moods, "I don't know, but if he's related to you, we're in for trouble."

Ron started to turn red, but amazingly, in the spirit of Christmas decided to hold his tongue. Slowly, the house began to look more and more like the holiday as its occupants awaited the arrival of the newly-expanded Potter family, and wondered what would be in store.

* * *

Harry, Brandon, and Professor Dumbledore arrived in the hospital wing, where Madam Pomfrey met them at the door. "He's not awake yet, so be quiet. This poor boy's had a rough enough time as it is." The nurse turned around and stalked off. 

"Ah, how I missed Madam Pomfrey's tongue-lashings. It does remind me of younger days when I would invariably end up here because of one of your Dad's backfired pranks." Brandon whispered to Harry in a conspiratorial manner. Harry sniggered.

They tiptoed over to where Jason was asleep in a bed. He was snoring slightly.

"Guess that runs in the family too, eh uncle," Harry said quietly, earning a glare from the elder Potter. "Blimey, he does look like a Weasley, doesn't he? Ron's long lost twin, perhaps?"

It was true. Jason was tall and thin, with bright red hair; he had fewer freckles than Ron, and was not as tall as the other redhead. Apparently, the sleep potion was wearing off, as Jason began to stir. He stretched like a cat, and then opened his eyes, "Ugh, I must still be asleep, because you look like my cousin Brandon, but he's in England."

Brandon responded gently, "No, Jason, it's really me, and you're not asleep."

The sleepy red-head suddenly became very much awake. He sat up in bed and said, "Wait a minute…I remember now, we were all at that place with the tower on the hill and I was following this snake and then….oh!" Jason's eyes got very wide as he fell silent.

Harry and Brandon just stood watching the other boy as he said in a very small voice, "So, they really are dead then? I didn't dream that either, did I?"

"No, Jason, you didn't dream that either," Brandon replied in an equally small voice. "Your mother and father and brother are dead." Tears began to fall down the cheeks of the older man, which in turn started Jason crying. Harry was surprised to find that his own eyes were brimming, as were the Headmaster's. Brandon moved over and wrapped Jason in a hug. They had never been very affectionate, but under the circumstances, it felt right.

"What…what happens now?" Jason said through sniffles.

"Well, that's up to you." Brandon had managed to regain his composure. "I know you probably don't want to talk about this now, but your mother and father asked me to take care of you if anything happened to them, so I've arranged to have you enrolled at Hogwarts and come stay with me from now on. You don't have to, but I know that Harry and I would like to have you around."

Jason wiped his eyes and looked over at Harry, who seemed distinctly uncomfortable. Putting on what he hoped was an encouraging smile, Harry walked over and said, "Hi, I'm your cousin Harry. Er, I'm really sorry about your family and all."

Jason was still sniffling, but managed to seem a bit star-struck in spite of everything. "Wow, I really am related to Harry Potter. No one's going to believe back at school." The redhead then visibly slumped, "But I guess I'm not going back there again am I?"

"I'm sure we can arrange for you to visit your friends on holidays and such."

"Ok," Jason didn't seem particularly interested in that however.

"How do you feel?" Brandon asked.

"Like someone ripped my heart out of my chest and tore it to shreds and then trampled on it." Jason said in the most mournful tone Harry had ever heard in his life.

"You always were the expressive one," Brandon said with a half-smile. "Let's try this again. Do you feel like getting out of here?"

"I suppose. Where are we going?"

"Harry's best friend - who it turns out is also your distant cousin on the other side of the family – and his family are having everyone over for Christmas. So, we're due back there for dinner."

"I'm not hungry."

"You don't have to eat, but it's Christmas, and wouldn't you rather be with people on Christmas?"

"I guess," Jason didn't sound convinced.

"Alright. We'll get your stuff while you put some clothes on and then we'll head out."

Some time later the three figures were back in the Three Broomsticks. Jason had come out of his funk somewhat to ask Harry some questions. Harry, like the Gryffindor he was had responded amiably, though they were typical Boy-Who-Lived questions. He felt like it would be best to encourage his cousin however he could.

"Why don't you go through first Harry?" Brandon said.

Harry didn't really want to go first, but he felt like he should. "Fine," he said, coming off a bit shorter than he intended. He entered the fireplace and was gone in a flash of green flame.

The next instant Harry tumbled out of the grate in the kitchen of the Burrow. He stood up and said in a loud voice, "We're back. Jason and my uncle are coming right behind me." Everyone else seemed to magically appear in the kitchen, which was a distinct possibility as most of them could Apparate legally.

Everyone started asking questions at once, but Harry hadn't even had time to answer when the fireplace blazed green again and Brandon and Jason slid out of the flames. They were immediately enveloped in a tangle of arms as everyone wrapped them in a bone-crushing hug. "Welcome home!" they shouted.

It was some time before everyone was able to disentangle themselves from the hug. When they did, the introductions began, and by the time Draco came through the line to meet Jason, the red-headed boy was looking rather overwhelmed.

"Hello, I'm Draco Malfoy," Draco said pleasantly, extending his hand. Completely gone was the haughty demeanor he had affected for so many years.

"Hi, I'm Jason Taylor…er, sorry to be rude, but you're not related to me are you?"

"No, I'm a friend of Harry's. No offense taken," Draco added, a little reluctantly.

"And a friend of the rest of us," Hermione threw in for good measure.

Surprisingly Draco smiled at her and turned back to Jason who said, "Good, because I don't think I could stand meeting any more long lost relatives today," he said tiredly.

Everyone laughed, and then Mrs. Weasley announced dinner.

Dinner turned out to be an awkward affair. No one really knew what a safe topic of conversation was and what wasn't. Harry really wanted to tell the other kids about the conversation with Dumbledore, so he flashed everyone his "I'll tell you later" look. The adults seemed content to carry on with small talk. Remus Lupin was slightly evasive about what he was doing for Dumbledore, and no one seemed keen on pressing him for information.

Jason wasn't eating much, and everyone pretended not to notice, but Brandon was worried about his nephew. He had been very quiet all evening. Soon the meal was over, and it was time to open presents. They were all making their way into the living room, and Jason tugged on Brandon's sleeve. "I don't really feel like presents tonight. May I just go to bed?"

Brandon looked at his cousin for a minute before saying, "Sure thing, kiddo. We'll save your presents for in the morning, OK?"

Jason nodded but said nothing. Brandon let Jason have his bedroom, and once he had the red-haired boy tucked in, he went back down to the living room, where everyone was in a rather glum mood.

"How is he doing?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"I don't really know. He's a kid, and he'll bounce back, but it will take time." Everyone nodded in agreement. The gift opening proved to be a rather subdued affair, though everyone seemed to give or receive very nice gifts. On the whole however, everyone was so drained from the events of the last few days that it wasn't long before everyone stumbled off to bed. Brandon Marion crashed on the couch, fully dressed. He even forgot to turn out the lights.


	21. The Other Boy Who Lived

**Author's Note – Whew! Finally, another chapter. This one is way late and I'm very sorry, but hopefully I've made up for it by making it a good and long one. Hope you enjoy! Feedback is always welcome.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, Rated 'T' for implicit violence and mild language. No characters were harmed in creation of this work except for Draco, who will be mentally scarred for life because he accidentally ran into Ron coming out of the shower one morning in nothing but his birthday suit. On with the show…**

**Chapter 21 – The Other Boy Who Lived**

The day after Christmas proved only slightly less trying than the day before. The time was rapidly approaching when everyone would have to return to school, and no one felt particularly excited about the prospect of having to deal with the start of another term.

Breakfast was once again a quiet affair at the Burrow. Jason appeared, much to everyone's surprise, and made an honest effort at eating his porridge. He wouldn't make eye contact with anyone, however, and he soon disappeared back up to his room. Several glances were exchanged around the table, but no one said anything to the red-headed boy.

After the meal Harry convinced the other underage wizards in the house to suit up and head outside to the Weasley's makeshift Quidditch pitch, ostensibly for a pick-up game. The four adults were otherwise occupied, and thus didn't have any real objections.

The small herd of teenagers (there were seven in all: Harry, Draco, Fred, George, Ginny, Ron and Hermione) went up to the clearing with their brooms, except for Hermione, who still didn't like flying. Once they arrived Harry said, "Er, I need to tell you all something."

Everyone stared at the black-haired Gryffindor for a moment. "Does this have something to do with the trip to Hogwarts yesterday?" Draco asked.

Harry said nothing, but nodded.

Obviously, no one was interested in Quidditch any more, so they all made themselves comfortable as best they could at the edge of the clearing. Hermione conjured a small fire, and everyone seated themselves on fallen logs, or stumps. At first, Harry was rather apprehensive about telling so many people about what was going on, usually it was just Ron, Hermione, and of late, Draco, but he knew he could certainly trust the other Weasleys as well. Harry chuckled to himself; they were family after all.

Harry started by telling about the walk to Hogsmeade, and how his uncle seemed really distraught, and then continuing with the almost surreal conversation with Dumbledore.

"Dumbledore asked my uncle what he planned to do, and my uncle said that he just wanted to settle down and have a quiet life."

"Well, that's what you've always wanted, isn't it Harry?" Draco asked, to the surprise of everyone else.

"Er, yeah, but Dumbledore said that he thought Voldemort (everyone else cringed) was going to come back at that I somehow have to be involved in his defeat, but he wouldn't say why or how he knows that."

"Wait, You-Know-Who's coming back?" Ron asked with a frightened expression on his face.

"Honestly, Ronald, it shouldn't be that surprising. He's been trying to come back ever since first year," Hermione said is a snippy voice.

"That's true. The question is…" George interjected quickly.

"Can he really come back?" Fred finished.

"Unfortunately, I think he can." Draco said in a matter-of-fact tone. Harry and Hermione nodded in agreement as the blond Slytherin continued, "You-Know-Who now has the Dragon's Tear, or more correctly, my father does, and with his help and Wormtail's, I'm sure You-Know-Who will waste no time in resurrecting himself."

The group of teenagers exchanged uneasy glances at that realization. "What do we do about it?" Ginny asked.

"We'll think of something," Harry said in a more confident manner than he felt.

"Hey, Harry, what do we do about Jason?" Ron asked.

"Er, what do you mean?"

"I never thought I'd admit it, but ickle Ronnikins has a point." George said.

"True, brother mine. I don't think Jason's doing too hot right now," Fred agreed.

Harry frowned. "That's true, but I don't really know what to do about it."

"We'll just have to take care of him," Ginny said. She sounded as if she looked forward to the prospect. Fred, George, and Ron all traded a glance. They knew how their sister could get sometimes.

"Well," Draco said, hoping to change the subject, "It sounds like priority one will be figuring out how to get the Dragon's Tear back." Everyone agreed and they talked for a while about how best to go about it, with little success. Eventually, they tired of the discussion, and began the now very tardy game of quidditch that was their original excuse for the foray out of doors.

* * *

Brandon Potter had a lot on his mind. After breakfast he remained at the table staring blankly at his cup of coffee, mulling things over. His world felt very much out of control at the moment, and he wasn't entirely sure what to do about it, if anything. The professor wasn't really worried about Harry, though it was no small daunting task to raise an orphaned teenager. No, Harry, amazingly, was fairly self-sufficient. He just got occasionally clingy and affectionate, a fact that Brandon found most amusing, mostly because Harry's father, while very loving, was not overly affectionate, even with Lily. Harry definitely got a bit of Brandon's DNA in that respect – Brandon had always been the emotional, affectionate one in the family. It was the fact that Brandon now had to worry about raising two orphaned teenagers that was troubling; well, that and the fact that he was about to come clean to the world at large about his identity, and the implications of that were hard to quantify at best.

Then there was Sirius. At least Harry's godfather would get something resembling justice for his twelve years in Azkaban and nearly two years on the run. James' best friend deserved that much at least. But how to go about it? And what would it mean for the remnants of the Potter family? Brandon realized that his years of globetrotting were probably over, but he wondered if he also would no longer be able to spend quiet days in his castle in the Pyrenees, reading ancient manuscripts, or working on his old cars, or even just sitting on the forecastle watching the sun rise over the mountains with a good cup or five of coffee.

Coffee – Brandon focused on his cup of coffee and realized it was cold, not that it particularly mattered to the professor. He drained the cup then helped himself to some more. 'I probably should go see Jason,' he thought. Setting his jaw firmly, he ascended the stairs to where the boy was asleep yet again.

Brandon opened the door to the bedroom. Jason was entombed in blankets, facing away from the doorway. Brandon walked quietly around the bed and sat down. He looked down at the sleeping form and was surprised to see that Jason was awake and staring at the weak sunlight streaming in through the windows.

"Hey, buddy," the professor said quietly.

"Hey," was the listless response.

"How you doing?"

"Not good."

"I know." There was nothing else to say, really. They sat there in silence for a very long time, then the red-headed boy rolled over and pulled the covers up over him again.

Brandon Potter touched his cousin lightly on the head before heading out of the room. As he left he said, "I know you don't really feel like it, but I think it'd be good for you to come down for lunch and try to stay up for a bit, OK?"

Silence was the reply.

* * *

Ivy Malfoy was beginning to get suspicious, that is, she was beginning to get more suspicious than her normal Slytherin predisposition allowed for. She knew her father was up to something, but she didn't know what. Ever since Ivy had come back from Draco's birthday party, he had been almost…patronizing toward Ivy, and then the day before Christmas, Lucius had come home in the middle of the day and disappeared into his study. Ever since then, many strange people had been coming and going at all times of the day or night.

Something was brewing, and Ivy didn't know what, but she did know that she didn't like it.

Ivy was in her room at Malfoy manor. Christmas had come and gone and she was looking forward to being back at school shortly. It was mid-afternoon so she decided to check in with Draco, and see how everything was going. She went to her dresser and pulled out the brooch that was her talkkey. Looking at it, she uttered the incantation that would let Draco know she wanted to talk. After a moment, the ruby eyes of the snake flashed blue, and Ivy spoke, "Drakey-poo are you there?"

The voice that responded was clearly irked, but sounded somewhat tinny and distant. "If you call me that one more time, _sister dear_, I'm going to knock you into the middle of next week." Ivy heard laughter in the background, and she knew that Draco wasn't alone.

"What are you up to big brother?"

"Well, we've had a very interesting few days." Draco hadn't talked to Ivy since his birthday, and so he filled her in on all of the recent occurrences at the Burrow. When he finished, Ivy was completely speechless.

"Ivy? Ivy? Are you there?" The tinny voice of Draco Malfoy was starting to sound slightly anxious. "Hello? Ivy?"

"Oh…sorry, I'm here."

"Oh, good. I was starting to get slightly worried."

"I just can't believe it! How is everyone dealing with it?"

"It's a little hard to say. Harry and his uncle seem more or less OK, but I think they're slightly in shock. Harry's been really rather, uh, clingy with his uncle since we found out about the attack on the Tor." Draco sounded like he wasn't sure how he felt about that, a fact that Ivy picked up on.

"Do I detect a bit of jealousy, Draco?" She responded suspiciously.

"Hang on…let me get where I can talk," was the terse reply.

"But you're already talking Drakey-poo," Ivy said in her best innocent-little-sister voice.

"Oh shut it already. You know exactly what I mean," Draco snapped. Ivy giggled.

"Alright, I'm up in one of the bedrooms. What were you saying?" Draco tried to buy a little time to figure out how to say what he was thinking.

"You know exactly what I said, Draco Malfoy. I think you're jealous that Harry's been paying more attention to his uncle than you."

Though Ivy couldn't see it, Draco fidgeted uncomfortably before replying. "Why would I be jealous? I'm not jealous." The blonde boy's tone was most unconvincing.

"Maybe jealous isn't the right word, big brother, but I think you don't get to spend as much time with Harry as you did, and you've not had any real friends before, so you miss that."

Draco was rather astounded at his sister's perceptiveness. He sighed, "You're right. I do miss that, but ever since all this…stuff…happened, he's been all but attached to his uncle. I've never seen him so clingy and scared-looking, not even when Voldemort was after him or he thought Sirius Black was trying to kill him."

"Maybe that's because he never had a family before, Draco."

"Oh." For once, the silver-tongued Slytherin was at a loss for words.

"He's still your friend, Draco, and this is a rough time so you have to just hang in there with him, OK?"

"I know." Draco found it slightly surreal that he was being lectured by his sister, and decided to change the subject. "So, how are things at the Manor?" Draco asked in a dry tone.

"I'm getting kinda scared, Drakey-poo. There are some strange things going on here." Draco was so surprised to hear this he didn't even notice the use of his sister's annoying pet name. "There are lots of people I don't recognize coming and going, and I haven't seen father for days. He spends almost all his time in the study." Draco knew which study Ivy was referring to.

"Do you think you could get a better idea of what's going on?"

"I can try, but I'm scared. What if Father finds out?"

There was an uneasy silence at the other end. "Just be careful Ivy."

"Ok, big brother. I'd better go."

"Alright, I love you, little sister."

"I love you too, Draco."

Ivy spoke the incantation to end the connection, then gathered her thoughts before heading out of her room to see if she could figure out what was going on in Malfoy Manor.

* * *

Draco went back downstairs after he finished talking to his sister to find everyone eating an early lunch. Surprisingly Jason had joined them, though he didn't really appear to be aware of his surroundings. Arthur Weasley was looking through the _Daily Prophet_ from that morning when he let out a soft "Oh dear."

Everyone turned to look at the patriarch of the Weasley clan. Arthur handed the paper over to Brandon Potter and pointed to the offending article.

**Dark Arts Defender or Death Eater in Disguise?**

Faithful readers of this publication will recall that the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy is a job with a bad reputation, reports _Rita Skeeter,_ roving _Prophet _correspondent. This year's incumbent appears to this reporter to fit the description perfectly. Brandon Marion at first glance appears to be a typically British wizard. He is of average height, with messy brown hair eyes that never seem to quite settle on a color. It's only when you speak to the young gentleman that it becomes apparent that he is _not_ a typical British wizard. He's an American.

To this reporter, this raises a serious question: Why would Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, hire an American Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? The American educational system, especially the magical one, is notably lax, and rumor has it that "Professor" Marion has no prior teaching experience. Headmaster Dumbledore asserts that Marion is well-versed in Defense Against the Dark Arts, having served as an Auror for the American magical government. This reporter questions whether an American Auror would have sufficient breadth of experience to be an effective instructor in the British system where the standards of education, and the level of skill necessary to combat the Dark Arts, is significantly greater than in our former colonies.

And what of this new professor's past? The answers are surprisingly sparse, and those that do exist are vague. No record of Brandon Marion exists in the United States prior to 1981, when Marion was thirteen. Upon further investigation, this reporter discovered that on November 1, 1981, a very coincidental date to occurrences here in Britain, a teenaged Brandon Marion appeared in the records of the United States Department of Magical Immigration as having applied for citizenship in the United States, having arrived there to live with his extended family. Strangely enough, the application appears incomplete, as the country of origin and reason for application are not filled out; oversights that did not prevent the U.S. government from granting the teenaged Marion's residency and citizenship request.

Students at the school do not seem to be concerned about their professor's qualifications. "He's very cool," says Lavender Brown, a fourth-year Gryffindor and classmate of the famous Boy-Who-Lived. "He seems to know what he's talking about, and even if he talks a little strangely we always seem to be able to figure out what he means." Some other students are not so complimentary of the newest addition to the Hogwarts faculty. "He definitely plays favorites in class; always giving points to those bloody Gryffindors. And his favorite of the bunch seems to be blasted Harry Potter," says Marcus Flint, a burly seventh-year student and captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team.

What is the connection between Brandon Marion and his prize pupil, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived? It's difficult to say at best. The two seem very comfortable with each other. Hogwarts' own celebrity is often seen dining with the young professor or talking with him after class. If you recall from past editions of this newspaper, we reported that the Boy-Who-Lived and his worst enemy, Draco Malfoy, appeared to have buried the hatchet and have become quite close friends. Rumor has it that the Boy-Who-Lived and young Master Malfoy spent part of the Christmas holidays with the young professor, a fact that raises even more questions. Why did Draco Malfoy, heir to House Malfoy and son of former Death Eater Lucius Malfoy suddenly become friends with the Boy-Who-Lived? Why did the two boys spend the holidays with a school professor with a shady past and questionable qualifications? Why did the Headmaster permit this? What are Professor Marion's true intentions toward the Boy-Who-Lived?

Perhaps the most unsettling occurrence in all of this is the recent attack on Glastonbury Tor. It has been reported that a group of Death Eaters, led by persons unknown, attacked the Tor, took something of value, and killed a wizarding family in the process. This reporter has been able to determine that the family that was killed is none other than the American family of Brandon Marion, who was en route to meet with their cousin to spend Christmas. While this reporter certainly extends her condolences to the Hogwarts professor for this tragedy, she must also ask why his family would have been the target of a Death Eater attack? All is not as it seems here, and while there are more questions than answers, this reporter is dedicated to bringing the truth to light. Stay tuned.

Brandon Potter had been reading the article out loud, and he traded glances with Harry and Draco as he read. When he got to the part about his family being killed he realized too late what he was reading, and no one was really surprised when Jason pushed away from the table and ran up the stairs to his older cousin's bedroom.

"I'll go check on the poor dear," Molly Weasley said with a concerned expression on her face. She rose from the table and headed up the stairs as well.

"Well, boys, what do you think? You're implicated in this fine piece of journalistic objectivity as much as I am," Brandon Potter said wearily.

In true house fashion, Harry responded first while Draco appeared to pause and consider. "It's bloody ridiculous! Who does that Rita Skeeter woman think she is? It's none of her bloody business!" The Gryffindor boy exploded.

"I know, Harry, but you shouldn't be surprised, really. You've always managed to be at the center of things, and you know the _Prophet_ likes to keep an eye on you," Brandon responded.

"I don't _want_ to be the center of things. I just want to be left alone like any normal boy! And they all but said that Draco is a Death Eater and we all know that's a pile of sh…er, crock!" Harry was so frustrated and angry he was close to tears. Brandon put a hand on his nephew's knee to comfort him. It seemed to calm the Gryffindor boy, at least somewhat.

Draco had had sufficient time to consider his response by this point. He was surprised that Harry had stuck up for him, though he thought he really should be used to that by now. "It is rather annoying. I do not particularly appreciate the implication of my status as a Death Eater, among other things. I wonder if we can somehow use this to our advantage?" He was much more calm than Harry, but everyone in the room knew that Draco Malfoy was just as angry as his ex-rival.

Brandon Potter's eyes had turned a steely gray themselves – this was never a good sign. "Yes, I find myself rather unamused by this little article myself." Harry couldn't help but stare at his uncle. He was acting very….Slytherin. It was slightly scary. "I had been contemplating how best to reveal my identity to the world at large, now that it's no longer necessary for me to keep things secret. I believe this will force me to move up my timetable considerably." Everyone at the table exchanged uneasy glances.

* * *

It was decided that everyone would return to Hogwarts a bit early to help Jason, who seemed to come out of his shock a little bit, get settled in before the start of term. Thus it was the following day when Brandon decided they would have to make a trip to the United States to "wrap things up" as Brandon put it. Brandon and Jason were both dreading this trip, and everyone else seemed to sense this.

"Uncle Brandon, can I go with you?" Harry asked a bit sheepishly as they came down to breakfast, Jason bringing up the rear. It had been a long and restless night, as both Jason and Harry had interrupted Brandon's sleep at one point or another because neither boy had been able to sleep. The newly formed "bachelor's club", as Brandon had been sarcastically calling his odd family unit, seemed to have a co-dependence problem. Brandon hoped it was just because of the stress and tragedy of the situation and not permanent.

"Er, well, yes, I suppose," the professor said uncertainly with a frown.

"I just want to see what it was like where you lived when you were my age, and that way we can all pitch in and help, with, well, whatever." Harry trailed off, and gestured vaguely in the air.

Brandon Potter eyed his nephew suspiciously. "What do you mean 'we'?"

"Oh, um, it's just that all of us kids talked about it last night, and they want to go with us tomorrow. You know, just in case." Harry fidgeted nervously.

"Just in case what?" They were sitting down at the breakfast table. Jason was eyeing the exchange with some nervousness. He recognized the look in his older cousin's eyes and was trying to warn Harry about it without being too obvious.

"Ah, well, that is…" Harry was stammering. "Just in case something happens. You never know, you might need backup." It sounded like it was a question rather than a statement of position.

Jason could see what was coming. "HARRY JAMES POTTER, I WAS AN AUROR FOR THE AMERICAN GOVERNMENT. GENERALLY SPEAKING, I DO NOT NEED BACKUP, AND DO YOU REALLY THINK I WOULD TAKE MY ONLY NEPHEW ALONG IF I THOUGHT IT WAS GOING TO BE DANGEROUS?" Brandon suddenly seemed to realize he was shouting at his nephew. "Oh, Harry, I'm really sorry I yelled at you like that. I shouldn't have." He put his arm on his nephew's arm, a very downcast expression on his face.

Harry was cringing at the unexpected onslaught, and everyone else at the table was wincing as if in pain. His uncle's sudden outburst made Harry feel like he was back at the Dursleys being punished for some trivial infraction. 'It's OK,' he thought to himself, struggling to keep his composure. 'I'm not at the Dursleys. This is Uncle Brandon, and he's just a bit stressed.' Harry took a deep breath and said in a slightly shaky voice, "It's OK, uncle. We're all a little worked up at the moment." Harry smiled weakly.

It ended up that Brandon, Jason, Harry, Draco, Ron and Hermione were going to go to the States. Hermione thought the trip would make for an interesting compare-and-contrast essay on wizarding culture and Ron didn't want Hermione to be a nuisance with all her questions. Draco was still feeling like he hadn't seen enough of his friend recently, and they all figured that they could pitch in and help get things accomplished faster, not to mention offer their support for whatever emotions came out. This was going to be a hard trip.

"I'll have to call my friend at the Department of Magic and get him to authorize a Portkey for all of us, since British Portkeys are annoyingly difficult to come by these days," Brandon grumbled. He finished up his breakfast and headed over to the fire, pulling out from his robes some special-grade Floo powder used for international calling.

An hour or so later, everyone was ready to go. Brandon had received the authorization for the Portkey, and as an ex-Auror, he of course knew how to create it himself. They ended up using Harry's school trunk for the Portkey, because they would need to bring stuff back, and it was large enough for everyone to hold on to comfortably.

After the familiar-yet-uncomfortable hook-behind-the-navel feeling, Harry found himself in what appeared to be a thick wood of tall pine and oak trees. Everyone else seemed to be looking around just as he was. Only Brandon and Jason appeared to be familiar with their surroundings, and even they seemed slightly perplexed.

"Uh, Jason, did I screw up the Portkey again?" Brandon asked in a perplexed tone.

Jason snickered, "Looks like it."

"Bloody hell, hold on a bit."

Jason took the opportunity to explain to the four friends what was going on as they were even more confused now, "The thing about a Portkey is that unless you fix a very clear picture in your mind of where you want the thing to send you when you set the spell, you can end up in an unexpected place. Apparently my genius cousin over here couldn't decide if he wanted to show up at my house or his, so we ended up halfway between." Jason sounded bored.

Hermione was impressed. "How do you know all that about Portkeys? It's pretty heavy-duty magic." Draco nodded in agreement, while Ron and Harry just shrugged.

"Easy, Brandon's only done this about fifty times before, it's kind of annoying really."

"Watch it, half-pint, or you can fly back to England on a muggle airplane." Even though the comment wasn't directed at him, Draco began to look a little green around the gills at the thought of having to fly on an airplane again.

"Half-pint! I'm almost as tall as you are!"

"Doesn't matter, you're still a half-pint. Always were, always will be. End of discussion."

Jason realized he wasn't going to win this one, and so resorted to grumbling under his breath. Harry was relieved to see some semblance of normal family interaction occurring with the red-headed boy. It was perhaps a sign of Jason beginning to deal with things better.

A moment later Brandon announced he'd reconfigured the Portkey, and in short order the group was standing in front of an old farmhouse set high on a ridge in a clearing of trees.

"Wow," Harry said. "They don't have houses like this in England. The Burrow's the closest thing I can think of."

"How much land do you have?" Draco asked with interest.

"Er, I'm not really sure – do you remember Brandon?"

"I think you guys have half a section." Once again, there were looks of confusion on the faces of those who were not of American citizenship.

"Right," Brandon clarified, "that would be 320 acres."

"Ooohhhh…" was the collective response.

"That's quite a bit. We only have a thousand or so at Malfoy manor," Draco added,  
"Of course, there are significant amounts of other land indirectly under our control, but we don't own it."

"You should see Brandon's place…it's even bigger than ours," Jason said excitedly. Everyone turned and looked at the young professor, who seemed distinctly embarrassed.

"Thanks, Jason," he muttered under his breath.

"Bigger, uncle?" Harry asked incredulously.

Brandon sighed, "Well, yes, but it's because I bought an old civil war plantation and have been remodeling the house."

"Wicked!" was Ron's assessment.

"We'll see it eventually. We have to stop there today as well, before heading back to England."

They turned to walk up to the house, and as they approached everyone got quiet, as the gravity of the situation re-asserted itself. The weather didn't help, as the clouds were gray and lowering. A wind was kicking up out of the north, blowing the bare trees back and forth.

"Snow tonight," Brandon said ominously.

They entered the house – everything appeared to be in order, just as Jason and his family had left it days before, except that somehow, everything now seemed shrouded in a veil of sadness. They spent several minutes walking through the house, pausing to look at family pictures or old drawings tacked to the refrigerator (The Taylors were wizards, but like Brandon with his cars had become used to and fond of some muggle conveniences).

Almost by chance, everyone ended up in the living room. Jason and Brandon were trying very hard not to cry – this was clearly an emotional thing for the two of them. Brandon was sitting between Jason and an also-teary-eyed Harry, with his arms on both boys shoulders. Draco, Hermione, and Ron were standing quietly looking at the makeshift family.

"I feel like any minute Mom will yell for dinner from the kitchen, or Brent will come in from playing quidditch with his friends and start giving me a hard time about something or Dad will come home from work, but they won't will they?" Jason asked in a shaky voice.

"No, they won't Jason." Brandon replied softly.

The tears were streaming freely down the red-headed boys face now. "I miss them. I didn't think I could ever miss my family, but I do."

"I know. And you'll always miss them. But you won't forget them, will you?"

"No."

"Why don't we go gather up your things?" Brandon helped his cousin up from the couch and they went up to Jason's room. As they were ascending the stairs, Brandon turned and looked at the four Britons in the living room. "We won't be long. Why don't you guys explore the grounds or something, but be back in fifteen minutes or so."

"Yes, uncle," Harry said miserably, still sitting on the couch.

When Brandon and Jason had disappeared up the stairs, Hermione turned to the dark-haired Gryffindor, "Harry, are you OK?"

"Not really."

Hermione sat down on the couch and grabbed Harry's hands. Draco sat on the other side of his friend and put a hand on the Gryffindor's shoulder while Ron sat on the floor and looked up at his best friend.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Hermione continued.

Harry was silent for a long moment. Then he exploded. "I can't believe this! What in the bloody hell did I ever do to that stupid bastard that he had to go and kill all my family! I never wanted to be the bloody Boy-Who-Lived. I wish Voldemort had killed me, at least then I wouldn't have to deal with all of this!" Harry jumped off the sofa and began to pace around the room, alternately kicking things and pounding on the walls, tears of rage streaming down his face as his three completely astonished friends looked on.

Harry's outburst had the unintended effect of his uncle and his cousin flying down the stairs, ready for a fight. Brandon was in his mountain lion form, eyes flashing a dangerous gray, Jason looking scared, but determined.

"Whoa," was the consensus. "Look at his eyes!" Ron added.

Harry, seeing the commotion, stopped punching things long enough to look and realize what was going on. "Uh, Uncle Brandon? It was just me. I got a little upset," he said sheepishly.

The large cat seemed mollified, and transformed into the form of Brandon Potter, a very serious expression on his face. Jason relaxed as well.

"You're an Animagus?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Yes, unregistered of course," he winked at the bushy-haired girl. "As a matter of fact, anyone with Potter blood, whether they've figured out the mechanics of it yet or not, is an Animagus and we tend to have feline forms for some odd reason. I expect Harry will figure his out any time now." The professor looked at his nephew who had just traded a significant glance with Draco. "Anyway," the professor continued, "What's going on down here. I heard this terrible commotion and was convinced it was a Death Eater attack."

"Er, sorry, like I said, I was just upset about, well, things," Harry said not really wanting to elaborate.

"I see," the professor said warily, eyeing his nephew, though he didn't question the teenager further.

"Um, not to be rude, mate, but have you learned to duel and stuff?" Ron asked of Jason. He had noted the very aggressive way the boy had come downstairs ready to fight.

"Oh, well, no, not exactly…" he looked at Brandon, who gave a slight nod. "It's just that, well, I've always wanted to be an Auror, so my cousin was teaching me basic stuff when he would come home to visit and stuff." Jason looked embarrassed.

"Bloody hell, that's awesome." Ron said. Everyone else agreed.

"We're just about finished here. Jason, go up and grab the trunk and we can be on our way." The redhead nodded in agreement, ran upstairs, then reappeared momentarily carrying a miniaturized trunk and an albino corn snake around his neck.

"You have a snake?" Harry said excitedly.

"Yeah," Jason agreed with a smile.

Harry said 'Hello, my name is Harry Potter and I'm the cousin of your owner' in Parseltongue.

'Hello, Harry Potter, my name is Ace. Are we going somewhere?"

"Yes, but I'll explain more later," Harry said noticing the strange looks he was getting from his cousin and his uncle.

"Very well, I'm rather sleepy anyway. I think I'll take a nap," The snake put it's head down and closed it's eyes.

Harry turned to look at his uncle and his cousin. "You're a parselmouth," Brandon said in a matter-of-fact voice.

"Er, yes sir. It's one of those nasty habits I picked up from Voldemort, I'm afraid." Harry looked nervously at his uncle.

"Well, no matter. I'm sure it's come in handy." The professor smiled. "Let's be on our way. Just a moment, and I'll have the Portkey ready to go."

* * *

A half an hour later found everyone getting settled in at Brandon's old house. It was, in fact, an old pre-civil war plantation house, though Brandon had lived in one of the guest houses up until right before he moved as he was remodeling the main house. The house was set on a hill overlooking a broad expanse of fields and forest. The house itself was typical of a southern plantation, with large white columns in the front. The inside was a work in progress, with hardwood floors badly in need of sanding and refinishing and bullet holes in many of the walls.

He explained that the house had been the headquarters of the Confederate army during one of the major campaigns of the U.S. Civil War. This of course, led to a discussion of American history - the majority of the Hogwarts students (except for Hermione of course) had not the slightest idea about the history of the former British colonies – as they gathered their things and prepared to Portkey back to the Burrow.

"I just need to run out to the garage and check on the cars," Brandon said.

"Cars?" Harry and Draco replied at once. "We're coming with you."

They headed out to the garage, which was of course the old carriage-house of the plantation, and were surprised to find that the wind had gotten significantly colder and snow was beginning to blow in. Stepping into the garage, Harry and Draco were surprised to see five or six shrouded forms all lined up. "I keep them covered of course, when they're not in use." Brandon looked at his watch, and then the dark sky outside the window. "Unfortunately there's not time to do this the old-fashioned way. I'll have to use magic. Sorry, boys."

Harry and Draco exchanged a glance. They didn't have a clue what Brandon was talking about.

Brandon Potter extracted his wand and uttered a spell that Harry didn't understand. He got it in a moment, and nearly got scared to death, too, as the covers all flew off the cars, which had miraculously started themselves and were idling away happily.

"Whoa," Harry and Draco said in unison. The cars, of course, were old BMWs that the professor had restored over the not-so-many years of his life.

"You did all this yourself?" Harry asked.

"Well, yes, though to be fair, I must tell you I did use some magic here and there. OK, we'll let these run for a bit while we finish up." They exited the garage, leaving the cars running, and wrapped up the remainder of their business in the house.

A few minutes later, they headed outside; snow was now coming down rather furiously. The cars could still be heard in the garage.

"Don't you think you should turn those off?" Ron asked.

"No problem."

Brandon Potter uttered a spell and all indication of activity at the house and garage ceased.

"What is that spell, professor? I saw you cast it at Jason's house too," Hermione said.

"Ah, that is a mothballing spell. This way the house will stay in the same condition as I left it, and no one will be able to intrude without suffering some rather nasty surprises. I'm not sure when I'll be back, so it's a good precaution.

With that, and one long last look at his home, Brandon re-oriented the Portkey for the Burrow. As Brandon felt the hook behind his navel, he thought it strange to be leaving home, perhaps forever, and yet to feel like you were headed home at precisely the same time.

* * *

The next couple of days at the Burrow were hectic, as everyone was trying to get ready to go back to Hogwarts slightly in advance of the new term. Brandon Potter spent a lot of time with his head in the fire conversing with a large number of people via Floo, but Harry couldn't ever figure out who he was talking to or what they were talking about. Jason seemed to come out of his shell a little bit more every day, but he still had his moments. Everyone did their best, even Draco, to be encouraging. Harry was finding that he really liked his cousin. He decided that Jason was kind of a cross between Ron and Draco. He looked and had a personality like Ron, but definitely had brains like Draco or Hermione. It made things interesting.

The group arrived at a very quiet Hogwarts the Thursday before the start of the new term. Jason had retreated back into his shell somewhat at the prospect of being in yet another strange place surrounded by more strange people, but the other teenagers did a good job of making him feel at home. On Thursday afternoon, Harry, Jason, and Brandon received a summons to the Headmasters office, and when they arrived, they found Dumbledore standing to meet them accompanied by a large black dog, as well as quite a few empty chairs.

"Sirius!" Harry exclaimed and he ran forward to give the dog a hug.

"I'm sorry he cannot transform to greet you properly, Harry. We are waiting on a couple of more guests to arrive," Dumbledore said in his usual cryptic tone while he winked at Brandon Potter.

Harry looked confusedly at both the Headmaster and his uncle, but before he had the chance to say anything, the door to the Headmaster's office opened yet again to admit Professors McGonagall and Snape. Harry was surprised when Cornelius Fudge and two other wizards followed them in.

"Ah, Dumbledore, always a pleasure." Fudge was wearing his emerald green suit and hat, and Harry had to work very hard to get the image of a Leprechaun out of his head.

"The pleasure is mine, Minister. Won't you sit down?"

"Certainly. You know Aurors Tonks and Shacklebolt? There have been some rumors that Sirius Black is lurking around Hogwarts again, and they felt it best to accompany me."

"Indeed. Let me introduce Brandon Marion, and his cousin Jason Taylor, who of course you will recognize from the attack on Glastonbury Tor."

"Oh dear, yes. I was very, very sorry to hear of your loss my boy."

Jason bristled at the minister's patronizing response, but nodded his head in acknowledgement.

"Well, tell me, Dumbledore, why are we here?"

Dumbledore seemed to not answer the minister's question. "It is fortuitious, minister, that you mentioned Sirius Black. I too have heard rumors of his proximity and in fact so have several others in our company."

"Is this why I am here?" Fudge asked with the slightest hint of impatience.

"Perhaps it would be better if I were to let Professor Marion explain. Professor?"

Harry noticed (and had to be careful not to laugh) that his uncle was paying rather more attention to the female Auror than he was the verbal jousting between the Headmaster and the Minister. Harry also noticed that Tonks seemed to be equally distracted.

"Professor," Dumbledore chided gently.

"Oh, right. My apologies," Brandon Potter turned bright red with embarrassment. Harry stifled a chuckle, which earned him a glare from three of the four professors in the room, not least of all, his uncle.

"Minister, I have recently uncovered information which not only will tell us where to find Sirius Black but will also prove his innocence in the matter of the murder of Lilly and James Potter and Peter Pettigrew."

"Not this again," Snape grumbled from his seat.

"I quite agree, Dumbledore," Fudge added. "Please tell me you have not dragged me all the way here to pose some cockamamie theory of Sirius Black's innocence. The last time it was the word of two thirteen year-old children and a werewolf. This time you propose that I should believe the words of a man who wasn't even on this side of the Atlantic Ocean when this all happened?" Fudge was clearly annoyed and impatient.

"I believe Professor Marion has some valuable information, and can be trusted in this matter," Dumbledore said calmly.

Fudge was not calm, however. "Yes, well I sometimes wonder about those whom you choose to trust. What of this professor's background? What of his experience? How do we know he is what he claims to be?"

"I assure you minister, Brandon Marion is not what he appears to be at all."

"My point exactly!" Fudge had hit his stride. "The fact of the matter is that you couldn't find a professor for the Dark Arts post this year and he was your last straw. I'm of half a mind to appoint a professor myself since you seem unable to fill the post with qualified candidates or at least with candidates who do not possess significant shortcomings."

Harry could see his uncle getting angry. Brandon Potter's eyes had gone steel gray. The young professor rose, and Dumbledore tried to prevent him from speaking, but Brandon, surprisingly, stopped the Headmaster with one glance.

"Minister Fudge," Brandon said in a voice that was as soft as snowfall yet also held the edge of a blade within. "You know nothing of my past or of me, and yet you insist on insulting me. This is not an honorable thing to do."

"Honorable? You dare accuse me of being…."

"Be quiet," Brandon Potter said in a voice even more dangerous. Fudge shut up. "Will you hear what I have to say?"

"I will not waste my time on pointless theories of uneducated foreigners, especially on a matter which has been resolved for the majority of that foreigners life."

"Then we are done here, but I will tell you this. You will hear what I have to say. I am sorry it will not be under circumstances which would have been beneficial to you, rather than detrimental." Brandon Potter sat down, his eyes looking forward, his jaw clenched. The room was silent as death. Harry had never seen his uncle so angry, and judging by the look of things, neither had anyone else.

"Well," Fudge said in a voice oozing with sarcasm, "Thank you for the lovely invitation, Dumbledore. Now, if we are finished, I must be about my business. Good day." Fudge and the two Aurors rose and left the office, though not without Tonks turning and taking one last look at Brandon Potter. This time, the professor seemed not to notice.

After the door was closed again, Dumbledore said simply, "That was not quite how I intended this meeting to transpire."

"What in the name of Merlin's Beard is going on here?" Professor McGonagall asked sharply.

"Yes, I am rather inclined to wonder the same thing," Snape added.

"The fact of the matter is that young Professor Marion here is not quite what he seems," Dumbledore said. The Headmaster went on to explain everything, after which both McGonagall and Snape looked significantly more enlightened, though Snape didn't look any more pleased.

"Well, I can't pretend that I find this to be happy news, but at least now I'll know what I'm really dealing with. Another Potter." Dumbledore looked at the Potions Master with a raised eyebrow.

Harry thought that McGonagall was looking suspiciously like she was happy about all this.

"Headmaster, if it's all right with you, I would like to proceed with Plan B," Brandon said.

"I think that would be best." Dumbledore agreed. "Would you like to make the announcement, or would you like me to?"

"Perhaps you should make it at the Welcome Feast during start of term. I'll make sure we have appropriate, ah, media coverage."

"Very well, why don't you take Snuffles with you to your apartment? He looks like he would rather stay with you than me." Dumbledore smiled.

Harry, Jason, and Brandon all headed toward the door. Snape glared at the trio while McGonagall smiled. "It's good to have you back, Mr. Potter." Brandon Potter smiled in return.

* * *

The next several days were some of the best of Harry's vacation. He got to spend time with Sirius and his uncle, and they were able to get Jason up to speed on how everything worked at Hogwarts. It was very different than school in America. He and Jason told Draco, Ron, and Hermione about everything that went on in Dumbledore's office, but none of them really could figure out what Harry's uncle had planned.

"All I know," Harry said at lunch before the welcome feast that evening, "was that I walked into my uncle's apartment yesterday and Rita Skeeter's head was in the fire and my uncle was saying 'You won't want to miss the Welcome Feast at Hogwarts tomorrow night. You want to know the scoop on me? You'll get it then.' I think that Skeeter woman could almost taste it, she wanted it so bad."

Sure enough, Rita Skeeter was on hand when the Welcome Feast began. Professor Dumbledore stood up to make his start of term announcements, and Harry could tell his uncle was quite nervous. He just wished he knew why. All of the adults had been very close-mouthed since the meeting in Dumbledore's office, but Harry couldn't help but wonder why Sirius was still around.

"Welcome, welcome to the start of another term," Dumbledore was saying. "As usual, I am glad to see you all back in one piece, even if you didn't stay that way for the whole term. Mr. Filch has taken the unusual step of adding several things to the prohibited list mid-year. The list now includes such things as 'smelly sock potion' and a muggle concotion known as 'bullion cubes', which some enterprising first-year has been placing in the shower heads of certain fourth-year girls toilets. Well done, Mr. Filch, we thank you for your diligence." The headmaster's eyes twinkled.

"On a more serious subject, some of our more observant students will have noticed the addition of another red-headed student to Gryffindor house. Now I assure you, it's not another Weasley," there was laughter at this, "at least not exactly. The Ministry of Magic would not approve of what I am about to tell you, but I think it is important that you know and understand the truth." The Great Hall got very, very quiet at this statement.

Dumbledore continued, "Many of you will remember reading about strange occurrences at Glastonbury Tor the day before Christmas, and a very unflattering article about our Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. What was said in that article was true. The family that was killed was in fact the family of Professor Marion. The only survivor of that attack was the Professor's cousin, Jason, who is now in Gryffindor house. The question then, is why? Why would Death Eaters attack Glastonbury Tor and kill an American family?" Everyone was silent. They were all waiting on Dumbledore's next words. Even Rita Skeeter was listening intently, her quill posed to write. "Simply, that is because Brandon Marion is not who he seems to be." Dumbledore looked at the DADA professor, who appeared to be marshalling his courage as he stood.

"You all know the bittersweet story of our own Harry Potter, but what you do not know is that Harry's father James had a younger brother who was thirteen at the time all of this happened." There were mutterings in the Hall. Rita Skeeter was writing furiously again. "This 'lost Potter' was enrolled at Hogwarts with many of your parents or older siblings, and when Voldemort attacked and killed Harry's parents, Albus Dumbledore helped James Potter's younger brother escape and disappear. But what happened to him?" The room was once again quiet.

"You each have seen the rather unflattering _Daily Prophet _article about me, my past, and my relationship with Harry Potter." The majority of the Great Hall seemed confused at this switch in the conversation. "Am I a Death Eater? Absolutely not! Am I an unqualified American professor? I would like to think not." Several people chuckled. "Quite simply, though you all have known me as Brandon Marion, I was born, and lived the first thirteen years of my life as Brandon Potter, James Potter's younger brother and Harry Potter's uncle."

The Great Hall erupted in sound and commotion – everyone was talking at once. It was several minutes before the hall quieted down enough for Brandon to be heard again. "Those of you who have parents who knew me will find that now they will remember all about me, for that was the nature of my escape – a spell designed to erase all evidence and memory of my existence. That spell has been lifted. Because of this, I can now tell you that Sirius Black did not betray my brother and his wife, and that Sirius Black did not kill Peter Pettigrew nearly fourteen years ago. Peter Pettigrew is the servant of Lord Voldemort and it was he who betrayed Harry, James, and Lilly.

If the tumult at Brandon Potter's first pronouncement was significant, there was utter pandemonium in the Great Hall now. Brandon Potter sat down heavily, as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. As Dumbledore and the rest of the staff (those who weren't in shock) tried to restore order, no one noticed Rita Skeeter slip out the side door of the Great Hall. Only Harry Potter's closest friends noticed him sitting there grinning like the Cheshire cat, yet with tears streaming down his face.


	22. Back toNormal?

Chapter 22 –

Authors Note: OK gang, it's been awhile. I do apologize. Life happened and a lot of it has happened between this chapter and the last. Hopefully continuing the story will be worth the read, and since it's been so long, please feel free to give feedback. I tried to be as consistent with earlier chapters as possible but I may have missed something. Thanks for hanging in there with me.

Supplemental Note: This is an updated version of this chapter with a slightly revised ending. Thanks to cckeimig for catching some errors with names and a problem with the plotline that I missed because I didn't re-read prior chapters far enough back to pick up the story in the right place. Chapter 23 is currently underway and should be posted before too much longer.

**Disclaimer: Not mine, Rated 'T' for implicit violence and mild language. No characters were harmed in creation of this work, except once again, for Draco's ego. Hey, it's an easy target. **

Chapter 22 – Back to…Normal?

The next morning found the Great Hall of Hogwarts enveloped in an eerie silence rather than the usual dull roar that typically accompanied the morning meal. This was primarily because nearly everyone – teachers, students, even the odd ghost – was reading _The Daily Prophet_, huddled in groups centered around those who took the paper on a daily basis. Indeed, several squabbles had broken out over people reading too slowly, or quickly, or not being able to see the paper at all.

At the Gryffindor table, the situation was no different. It seemed that only Hermione and Colin Creevey had been taking the _Prophet_ so the majority of the house was clumped around those two trying to read the front-page article. Harry, feeling very frustrated, threw up his hands and with a frown marched resolutely up to the staff table.

Brandon Potter had his nose buried in the paper as well and thus it was that Harry stood in front of his uncle for quite some time, growing ever more impatient. It didn't help that the longer Harry stood in front of his oblivious uncle the more people seemed to notice, and at least at the staff table, the more amused everyone seemed to be. Finally, after several long moments, Harry cleared his throat loudly. This had the desired effect; Brandon Potter's eyes appeared over the top of the paper. Spying his very annoyed nephew, Brandon put down the paper with a perplexed expression on his face and said, "Ah, good morning Harry…er, did you need something?"

Harry harrumphed in a most Draco-like manner. "Are you done with the paper?" He asked shortly.

Harry knew from the way his uncle's eyebrow was arching and the fact that his eyes were looking a little grayer than they had been a minute ago that he had come on a little too strong. Brandon Potter leaned down from the staff table to look down at his nephew and said in a low voice, "Would you like to try that again?"

Harry looked up stubbornly at his uncle, who he knew was right and fidgeted for a moment. "Sorry, Uncle. Would it be okay if I read the paper with you, unless you've finished, in which case, may I have it?" He asked in a most contrite tone.

Brandon Potter leaned back in his chair and considered his nephew with a stern look for a moment, then smiled. "Of course, come around to my side of the table." Harry made his way up to the staff table and came around behind his uncle, to read over the older man's shoulder.

**HOGWARTS MYSTERY REVEALED! DARK ARTS TEACHER OTHER**

'**BOY WHO LIVED'!**

Faithful readers of the _Prophet_ will no doubt recall the recent article on Hogwarts' American Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Brandon Marion. It appears there is not only more to the man than meets the eye, but his fate appears to be heavily entwined with that of the Boy Who Lived, reports Rita Skeeter, star _Prophet _reporter. Every term at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is opened with a banquet known as the Welcome Feast. At this term's feast, which took place last evening, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, had quite a surprise in store to supplement the usual drudgery of announcements. Headmaster Dumbledore noted the addition of a new fourth-year student, Jason Taylor. Taylor is the only surviving member of the family of American wizards that were killed in an ambush on Glastonbury Tor last month, and is the cousin of Hogwarts Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Brandon Marion. While those responsible for the ambush have not been identified, Dumbledore implied that it was the work of You-Know-Who's Death Eaters. It was then that Marion himself continued the monologue normally reserved for Dumbledore. Brandon Marion spoke at some length about the events that surrounded the defeat of You-Know-Who some thirteen years ago, and revealed himself as the long-lost brother of James Potter, who along with his wife Lily, was killed by You-Know-Who,. and as the uncle of the Boy-Who-Lived. (something funky with this sentence)Of course, my sharper readers have figured out that this makes him the uncle of the famous Harry Potter.

The entirety of Hogwarts School was in shock at this pronouncement and the remainder of the wizarding world seems to have followed suit. It is no secret that the Ministry's official position on You-Know-Who is that he has been defeated; inquiries to the Ministry of Magic on Marion/Potter's claims have resulted in terse "No comment" responses. The students at Hogwarts seem more favorably impressed. "Well, it's wonderful, really," said fourth-year student Lavender Brown. "Harry's always been such a tragic figure, and it's so good to see how happy he seems now. His uncle is an excellent professor and his accent is so cute!"

While all seems to be familial bliss within the walls of Hogwarts School there has been rumor of significant friction between the school's Headmaster and the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, and sources within the ministry who wish the remain anonymous have noted that the surprise announcement is the result of this disagreement. It appears that Minister Fudge visited Hogwarts to meet secretly with Dumbledore and the elder Potter. Neither the agenda of that meeting, nor what was said is actually known, but Ministry employees noted that Fudge returned to London "in rather a bad mood."

What is the subject of the disagreement between Dumbledore and the Potter family and the Ministry? Why has the Ministry been so reluctant to discuss Brandon Potter, the circumstances surrounding his disappearance thirteen years ago, and his subsequent reappearance? Is You-Know-Who really vanquished, or is he slowly making his return to power, and how do the Boy-Who-Lived and his long-lost uncle figure into this equation?

Harry and his uncle had finished reading the article at nearly the same time. "What do you think?" Brandon asked nonchalantly as he folded the paper.

Harry, who had been resting his chin on his uncle's shoulder as he read, started to stand up to answer when both Potters were blinded by a very bright flash of light.

"Creevey!" they yelled simultaneously. The blond-haired Gryffindor looked up from behind his camera, startled, then with a laugh he sprinted out of the Great Hall and toward Gryffindor Tower.

"Oh, bloody hell, Uncle, now he'll be wanting signed pictures of the both of us."

"Language, Harry," the young professor said sternly.

"Sorry."

"No problem, now tell me what the bloody hell you're talking about." Brandon winked at his nephew. Harry thought he caught Professor McGonagall listening in, clearly amused. Harry could have sworn she was smiling, which he earnestly thought not possible for the woman.

Harry spent the next couple of minutes filling his uncle in on the "Harry Potter Fan Club" and Colin Creevey, who wasn't just the President – he was also a member. Harry was very disturbed to note that his uncle seemed to have a rather mischievous look in his eyes.

"Well, Harry, it's about time for classes, and as usual, I'm not prepared, so I must run. Off you go." Brandon Potter scooted his chair back to stand, speaking briefly to Professor McGonagall on one side and Professor Sprout on the other.

"OK, Uncle. I'll see you later." Harry looked uncertainly around for a moment, then looking slightly embarrassed, gave his uncle, who looked rather nonplussed, a hug. Harry, now even more embarrassed at the very noticeable chorus of "awwww" around the room, ran off to get his things for his first class, leaving an equally embarrassed Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor and a teary-eyed Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout.

* * *

It turned out that Harry, and thus by association Draco, Ron, and to a lesser extent Hermione had all of their classes with Jason. Harry thought as he watched his cousin throughout the day that this was a good thing. Jason was handling things well, but Harry couldn't help but notice that as the day wore on that the red-headed boy seemed under more and more strain.

The evening found the four Gryffindor students plus Draco in Brandon Potter's apartment for dinner. The young professor had requested a simple meal in the interest of allowing everyone to focus on the conversation and company rather than on stuffing their faces. As such, the school elves had provided a thick, hearty beef stew and good bread suitable for sopping up the dregs in the bowl.

"Well," Brandon Potter began the conversation as the empty bowls of stew magically disappeared from the table to be replaced by plates of tiramisu, "how was everyone's first day back?"

Tiramisu turned out to be a tactical error in the planning of the menu for while the beef stew had kept everyone's mouths more-or-less available for conversation, the tiramisu had captured everyone's attention, especially Draco, who was digging into the dessert in earnest.

Brandon Potter repeated the question some minutes later as coffee and tea were served. Harry, Ron, and Draco all traded a glance and shrugged. "Fine," mumbled Harry unconvincingly as the three boys became very interested in their coffee while stealing looks at Jason, who seemed to be keeping very quiet. Hermione, on the other hand, seemed perfectly happy to ramble on incessantly about Arithmancy and Muggle Studies.

Some time later, as Harry and Ron were coming dangerously close to falling asleep, and even Draco was looking slightly dazed, Hermione seemed to realize she was suffering from severe verbal diarrhea and abruptly shut up, looking embarrassed.

The sudden silence seemed to jar the boys from their stupor, and they each sat up, looking around and blinking, much like little groundhogs coming out into the first light of spring after a long winter's sleep. Brandon Potter smiled kindly at Hermione, who blushed further, and then said, "And how was your day Jason?"

The red-headed boy did not look up from his dessert, "Okay," he said unconvincingly with a shrug. Everyone else in the room traded uncomfortable glances, but said nothing. Jason noticed the silence after several moments, and looked up. "What?"

Brandon Potter cleared his throat somewhat nervously. "Pretty rough first day, huh kiddo?"

Jason thought for a moment and then sighed, "Yeah." He did not seem particularly inclined to go into greater detail.

Brandon Potter looked pointedly at his cousin for a moment, as if deciding whether to press the issue, then he shrugged and said, "Well, for the first time in nearly 15 years, I was called out of class to meet with the Headmaster."

Harry smirked at his uncle. "Couldn't keep out of trouble, could you, Uncle? Are the Marauders making a return?"

The professor mock-glared at his nephew, "It would appear the only difference between then and now is the amount of trouble I cause, Harry." Everyone laughed at the droll expression on the professor's face. "It turns out that our esteemed Minister of Magic was rather upset by the article in the paper this morning."

"That's a shocker," Draco interjected dryly between mouthfuls of tiramisu.

"So, what did Dumbledore have to say?" asked Ron.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, Ron," corrected Hermione.

"The Headmaster wanted to discuss some of the unforeseen implications of my little announcement yesterday," the professor interjected quickly. "He seems to think that with memories of me returning all over England, things could get a bit dangerous for all of us."

Draco snorted. "Get dangerous? Seems to be they've been dangerous."

"Yes, well, apparently, the Headmaster seems to believe there is some chance of attack here now that the entire Death Eater population knows who I am."

"But that's ridiculous!" Harry exclaimed. "Lucius Malfoy and Voldemort already knew who you were, that's why you revealed your identity publicly. Why would they attack here?"

Brandon Potter cast a significant glance at Jason, who met his uncle's gaze with a perplexed look. "Voldemort has somehow gotten the idea that Jason and I are a threat, in addition to the one you already pose. It seems he wants to completely wipe out anyone and everyone associated with the name 'Potter'."

The teenagers at the table all traded a glance as the professor continued. "It seems that Lucius will be in charge of the raid. He is apparently having to redeem himself for the last failed raid."

"They just couldn't stand not having Snape around could they?" Draco asked dryly, though he seemed a little tense at the news that his father was in charge of yet another potential assault on Hogwarts.

"Well, there's that, and yes Draco, you're a target, and it seems that now that I'm back on the map, so to speak, they have a score to settle with me. Oh, and the usual Voldemort-wants-Harry-dead bit too." The elder Potter was trying to make light of things, but the others at the table could all tell it was weighing heavily on the professor.

"Don't worry Uncle, we'll be smart about things. And I don't care if half the world is half ustrying to kill me, I wouldn't trade having you around for anything." Harry smiled hopefully at his uncle, who reached over to tousle the already-messy hair of the young wizard.

"Me either!" added Jason, smiling as well. The others agreed.

"Thanks all of you," the professor beamed, though the worry lines didn't entirely disappear from the young face. "Alright, you fiveour – time to head to your houses. Schoolwork waits for no wizard, or something like that."

The five teenagers said their goodbyes and left the professor to his cat and his thoughts – some of which were not as easily dismissed as he would have liked. 'How in the world am I going to take care of those kids?' He thought miserably. 'And what will happen to Harry? I wonder if Dumbledore has told him of the prophecy? Perhaps more pressing, how do we get the Tear here and do we even want it here?'

As usual, there were plenty of questions, and no answers.

* * *

Elsewhere in the great rambling castle, five mischievous teenagers were pondering similar questions.

"We've got to get the Tear," Harry said decisively. Four other sets of eyes turned and looked at him with expressions ranging from fear (Jason and Ron) to suspicion (Hermione and Draco).

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea, Harry." Hermione spoke for all of them.

"Why not?" Harry demanded.

"Well, for starters, it's three hundred bloody miles from here, mate." Ron stated emphatically, his eyes beginning to bulge.

"Not to mention that would require breaking every school rule known and then some." Hermoine added.

The raven-haired wizard groaned in frustration. "So you think we should just leave it there for Voldemort and his gang to do what they want with it?"

"No!" responded everyone else in unison.

"OK, fine. What are you saying then?" Harry was still rather frustrated.

"It seems to me that Dumbledore and your Uncle probably have it pretty well under control, mate." Ron said confidently. Draco, Jason, and Hermione all nodded in agreement.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that. You heard him, he thinks everyone's out to get him."

"Well, there does seem to be something to that. After all, everyone is out to get you, you know." Draco quipped.

"Oh, shut it." Harry said irritably. "Anyway, I bet you my uncle is going to let Dumbledore handle this one, and I'm not convinced Dumbledore will handle it right."

"What's the big deal about the Tear anyway?" Ron said as he munched on a chocolate frog he had found in his bookbag. It was a little stale, but still quite edible.

"Ron, You-Know-Who thinks he needs it so he can come back in bodily form." Hermione said almost as irritably as Harry.

"You-Know-Who's coming back?" Ron dropped the remainder of his chocolate frog.

"Honestly, Weasley, you have the short-term memory of a goldfish. Of course he's coming back. We've been over this at least three times in the last week." Draco shouted.

"Oh. Sorry." Ron salvaged the remains of his frog.

"What do you want to do, Harry?" Jason asked quietly, still looking somewhat scared.

"Get the Tear, of course, but the question is how?"

"Well, it seems like the biggest difficulty will be in actually getting to Malfoy manor. But, if we can time it for when they're planning the raid, it should be relatively easy." Jason said, thoughtfully.

"Hermione, when is our next Hogsmeade weekend?" Draco asked.

"A couple of weekends off, why?"

"Let's just say your uncle's not the only one who can conjure up an unregistered portkey, Harry." Draco grinned evilly as the other teens stared at him in shock.

"You can make a portkey, Draco?" Harry said incredulously.

"Yeah, if I've been where I want to go at least once before. Dear old Dad taught me that a long time ago, so I could home in case of emergency." Draco shrugged.

"Great! That's settled then." Harry said excitedly.

"Well…" Draco hesitated. "Not exactly. You see, the Manor has all these special precautions about Apparating and Portkeys, kind of like Hogwarts, so there's a certain way you have to set up the spells in order for it to, uh work. And I don't know if Dad has changed the sequence or the spells required."

Hermione frowned. "Draco, what happens if you don't get it quite right? Will we simply end up rebounding back to where we left?"

Draco looked even more uncomfortable. "Not exactly. You know my father wouldn't dream of being that nice to an intruder."

Harry looked a little queasy at that pronouncement. "Well, then I guess you'll spend a lot of time figuring out what the place looks like. Maybe you should ask Ivy if she knows anything else about it, and I'm sure Jason can help, too."

Jason nodded vigorously, but suddenly broke in to a yawn, and said, "Wow, I'm tired. Guess I'd better be off to bed. Didn't get much homework done." The red-headed American gathered up his things and trudged up the staircase to the dormitory, while four other sets of eyes followed his progress.

"I'm still worried about him," Harry said almost to himself.

"Give him some time, you don't get over the death of your family in a week." Draco said before thinking about what was coming out of his mouth. "Oops."

"Right. Thanks for that Draco. I think I'll be going to bed myself. Night all." Harry said tersely as he stood so quickly he knocked over his chair. Not bothering to set it right, he gathered up his things, waved his wand at the chair, which righted itself, and stormed up the stairs to the dormitory as well.

"Malfoy, what were you thinking?" Ron exploded as soon as Harry was out of earshot. Hermione nodded in agreement, but held her tongue.

"Sorry." Draco looked miserable. "I wasn't trying to be mean, it just slipped out before I thought about it."

"Well, you better go do something about it, mate."

"Right, er, ok." Draco looked uncertain but stood and headed for the stairs to the dormitory himself. He took his time ascending while he tried to figure out his game plan. Apologies were still somewhat of a struggle for him, even with his best friend.

Draco entered the fourth-year boys dormitory to find Harry sobbing into his pillow. Sighing to himself, Draco went over to the raven-haired boy and sat down on the edge of the bed. Harry didn't seem to notice the extra weight.

"Harry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that. I, er, I just, well, I didn't think before I opened my mouth." Draco tentatively reached out and patted the other boy awkwardly on the leg, not really sure of what else to say or do.

The sobbing continued briefly, then Harry lifted his head enough to gaze at Draco with one red watery eye. Then Harry rolled over and still sniffling, said, "I know you didn't mean to Draco, and I wasn't really upset with you, it was just, you know, the whole thing, and all the emotion of the last few weeks. It's kind of brought things back to the surface for me, I guess." Harry wiped his runny nose with his sleeve.

"Oh gross, Potter. Can't you use a tissue?" Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust while looking around, as if searching for a Kleenex.

The other boy laughed in a half-crying sort of way, but continued on, "And as glad as I am to have my Uncle around, every time I look at him I see my Dad, and right now that doesn't help. Plus, between Uncle Brandon and Jason, I feel like I've been neglecting you and Ron and Hermione and I don't like that very much either."

While Draco was taken aback at Harry's statement (mostly because Draco and Ivy had conversed about Harry's lack of attention to his friends and was glad to hear that Harry was aware of it), he wasn't really sure how to deal with the emotion, and found himself cursing the infamous inability of Gryffindor students to control their feelings.

Trying not to roll his eyes, Draco patted Harry on the leg again. "Well, it is all very overwhelming, I suppose."

Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously and he sat up suddenly. "Draco Malfoy, are you patronizing me?"

Draco thought for a moment that Harry's eyes flashed gray, then he remembered that was the other Potter. However, when Harry had suddenly disappeared and in his place was a black panther with a lightning-shaped mark on its forehead Draco knew he was in trouble. He jumped off the bed and made for the door of the room only to be knocked down halfway across the room. "Alright Harry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound patronizing." For some odd reason the back of his neck felt awfully exposed to the warm breath of the growling animal on his back. After several moments, Draco felt the weight on his back shift, and the growling stop. He chanced a look over his shoulder to find a rather surprised-looking Harry Potter sitting on his back.

"Oh, get off me, you big lump." Draco shouted testily.

"Right, sorry." Harry still seemed a bit in shock.

"You did it again." Draco stated.

"Uh-huh. Must have been all the feelings going through my head, then you royally pissed me off with that little eye-rolling bit." Harry said sulkily.

"Er, yes, well, sorry about that. I was trying to be good. I just don't really understand why you can't, you know, control your emotions, and I didn't really know how to deal with your little, er, episode."

At that last word, Harry been eyeing Draco suspiciously again.

"Sorry, sorry. Sheesh. I just mean, I wasn't really sure how to respond, alright?"

Harry seemed, at least somewhat mollified. "OK. You're learning, I'm learning, we're all learning. And we're all dealing with a lot. Sometimes, I just get tired of all this drama and wish I could live a normal life." The frustration crept back into his voice.

Draco decided this was a good time to make an exit. "I know, Harry, but it seems that for whatever reason our lives will not be normal for quite some time, if ever." With that the blond wizard left Harry Potter to this his thoughts.

* * *

The next couple of weeks flew by and suddenly it was the night before the weekend visit to Hogsmeade. Ivy, Draco, and Jason had in fact spent much of their spare time trying to make sure the portkey would be safe to transport them all to Malfoy Manor. This in and of itself had been an issue, simply because as "payment" for helping with the portkey, Ivy demanded to be included in the "operation" as the teenagers had taken to calling their plan to recover the Tear.

"No bloody way, sister dear." Draco said emphatically the first night they were working on the portkey, his arms crossed and eyes gleaming. He looked like he was ready to chew nails.

Facing him, Ivy looked equally angry. "If you think I'm going to let you run off and play hero again without me, you're out of your mind. I've got just as much a right to be included as you do. Besides, if you don't I won't help you set up the portkey."

Jason, who was also present, just looked fearfully from one Malfoy to the other, but kept his mouth shut. This was not a discussion he cared to be involved in. Draco and Ivy continued to argue until Ivy switched tactics. She started laughing. Both Draco and Jason stared at her perplexed, but she simply pointed at Draco, still laughing.

Jason turned and looked at the boy and saw that somehow, he had managed to grow…whiskers? Jason too began to laugh uncontrollably.

Draco, however, had just about enough. "What in the name of Merlin's Beard is so funny?" He demanded, crossing his arms. Just then, he noticed that his nose itched, and reaching up to scratch it, he noticed the whiskers himself. "What the…" His expletive, however, was cut off by a loud sneeze as his nose twitched again.

Ivy had managed to regain control of herself, and she walked over to her brother, who was still sneezing. His long cat whiskers, which looked very out of place on his very human face were twitching with each sneeze, which only served to aggravate Draco further. "If I didn't know better, big brother, I'd say the cat has your tongue, or maybe nose."

"Very funny….Ivy…really….too much," Draco stammered between sneezes, his eyes streaming.

"You really should learn to control your magic you know. I'd hate for you to get mad in McGonagall's class one day because you can't remember the answer to a question and all of a sudden there's a cute little white puffball kitty cat sitting in your chair," Ivy continued sweetly.

"Oh shut it," Draco had managed to stop sneezing. "For your information, I'm a white tiger when I transfigure, thank you very much." He had now calmed down enough that his whiskers had disappeared. The blond boy let out a huge sigh of resignation. "Alright, I suppose you can join us in the operation." Ivy beamed and gave her brother a hug. Jason, backed as far into the corner as he could safely get, smiled and let out a sigh of relief himself. He was trying to figure out how to escape this Malfoy family feud. "Let's get back to work." Draco added, and so they did.

Now, as they were all sitting in the Gryffindor common room talking over last minute plans and details as quietly as possible, the six teenagers were having the usual second thoughts and cold feet. 'How did this group get so big?' Harry thought to himself. They were supposed to be working on an essay for his Uncle's class, but everyone was so absorbed in their thoughts of tomorrow that no one, not even Hermione, was doing much writing.

"Well," Draco said suddenly, bringing everyone out of their reverie, "maybe we should review, uh, things."

Everyone traded glances. "Right." Harry said quietly. "So, we all go down to Hogsmeade tomorrow, not necessarily together and randomly end up at the Shrieking Shack. Jason, Draco, and Ivy will hold the portkey, everyone will hold on to them. That way we have a better chance of the portkey working correctly." Everyone was a bit nervous at trying to infiltrate the highly-protected Malfoy Manor. It had taken Draco, Ivy, and Jason a long time to get the portkey ready, and of course they hadn't been able to test it.

"Draco, what are the odds that your Dad will be gone?" Harry asked.

"Who knows? It depends on what he had to do last night, if anything, in terms of Death Eater activitites. If he was out late, he'll be there, but he might be sleeping." Draco sounded relatively uncertain.

"I've tried to get in touch with Mother, but Father has her locked away somewhere in the Manor, and she's not responding to Floo or Talkkey or anything." Ivy looked worried as she relayed this information.

Hermione sighed heavily. "Do we know where the Tear is once we get to the Manor?"

"It'll be in Father's secret underground chamber. He hasn't changed anything there, Drakey, so it shouldn't be a problem to sneak in, if we can get there." Draco glared at his sister when everyone started snickering at Ivy's use of his family nickname. Ivy returned the icy stare with an innocent smile.

"Right," Harry said. "Once we arrive, just outside the front door, Jason stays with the portkey while the rest of us sneak into the Manor. Ron and Hermione, you guys will keep lookout on the main floor while Draco, Ivy, and I go down into the secret chamber. Once we have the Tear, we get the heck out of there, get back to Jason, and get back to Hogsmeade."

"How long do you think we can be gone before we're missed?" Ivy asked.

"Not long." Hermione said, "But then, it shouldn't take long."

"Harry, you're staying under your cloak, right?" Ron asked.

The dark-haired boy grumbled. "I suppose, but I don't have to like it."

"Harry, it's safest, really." Hermione chided him gently. Everyone else nodded in agreement.

They were going to continue, but just then Harry's uncle walked in. Everyone tried their best to look like they were working on their essays. "Oh, hello Uncle," Harry said nonchalantly as the professor came over. "We were just trying to finish up our essays." Everyone else at the table was writing furiously, heads down.

"Well, I'm completely whipped," Ron said with a loud yawn. "Better get some shut eye." Ron hastily made his exit, followed by four other students, which left Harry and his uncle alone in the common room.

"Oy, I'd better hit the sack, too, Uncle. See you tomorrow!" Harry left almost at a run. The professor followed his nephew up the stairs with his eyes, thinking 'Something very odd is going on around here,' and returning to his apartment, he racked his brain trying to think of what he was missing.


	23. The Best Laid Plans

Authors Note:

It's been a while since I posted a chapter. Unfortunately, a lot has happened in the last couple of years (not necessarily bad) and that meant I've not been able to write. I'm just now getting back to the story, which has been difficult now that the HP canon is basically complete. At risk of revealing too much of my plans, I think I can safely say that this particular story probably has two or three more chapters, and the next story, should I decide to write it, is already in rough outline form.

I've been a little unhappy with the direction of this story over the last few chapters, so I will probably try to move it back "on track" to the original plan I came up with in 2004. I'd also like to say that I'm not real happy with this chapter – it feels like filler till we get to the next chapter, but sometimes you just have to move the story along, and in this case I had to get back into the swing of writing the story. Thanks for sticking with me, and I do genuinely appreciate your patience and reading this far. I will try to be more regular with the writing and posting of chapters in this and subsequent stories, but am not sure I can go back to one chapter a week. I'll do my best. Of course any feedback is always appreciated. -TM

P.S. – I'm in search of a beta, so if you're willing, please drop me a line. Many thanks.

**Disclaimer: Not mine, Rated 'T' for implicit violence and mild language. **

Chapter 23 – The Best Laid Plans

Harry lay in his bed most of the night tossing and turning. The light snores and mumbling of Seamus, Dean, and Neville could be heard through the curtain, but one thing that Harry could not hear was the usually-not-so-quiet snoring of his best friend.

"Harry…" he heard the red-headed boy say around three in the morning.

"Yeah, Ron."

"I can't sleep."

"Me either." Harry let out a sigh, rolled over on his side and opened the curtain of his bed so that he could see Ron.

Ron was laying similarly, his head propped upon his pillows. "I don't have a good feeling about this, Harry."

Harry snorted, "You never do, Ron," he said with a note of sadness in his voice. "But you're right, I don't either."

"So…what do we do?"

"I don't know…I think I'll go find Sirius. I bet he's in the Common Room. He'll know what to do, and he should probably know what's going on anyway."

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Harry?" The green-eyed boy looked at his best friend warily. Ron continued, "What I mean is, how do you know he won't go to your uncle and tell him everything?"

"Er…well, I don't. But, I really need to talk to someone, and he probably should know what's going on anyway." Harry put on his glasses and got out of bed.

"I guess..." It was Ron's turn to sigh. "G'night Harry, I'm going to try to get some sleep."

"Night, Ron," Harry said as he exited the dormitory and headed down the stairs to the Common Room.

---

Sleep was in short supply in general in the castle. Down in the dungeons, Draco and Ivy were having a similar conversation in the deserted Slytherin Common Room, but they were taking a slightly different approach.

"Maybe we should talk to Harry's Uncle about it," Draco was saying as if he was thinking aloud.

Ivy frowned. "I don't know, big brother. Aren't you afraid that we'll get in trouble for having some kind of secret evil plot to get the Tear back?"

"Well, yes, but on the other hand, if dear old Dad is out to get us, and the Dark Lord is after the various Potters, is it smart for us to walk right into the Lion's Den, if you'll pardon the reference? Plus, I've noticed that with everything that's happened to Harry, Hermione, and Ron they've made out all right, but how much easier and better would things be if they'd just let the adults handle things instead of going off on their own?"

Ivy thought that Draco was sounding a little bit like his old self in that he sounded a bit bitter that that Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor crew seemed to be able to get away with anything, but she kept that thought to herself.

"You may have a point, Drakey."

The elder Malfoy subconsciously ground his teeth at the use of his nickname. "Ivy, would you PLEASE not call me that."

Ivy just giggled. "Fine, Draco. I'm going to bed. Maybe we should try to find the Headmaster in the morning and offer to, er, help, given that we have insider knowledge on Malfoy Manor?"

"A fine idea, sister dear. I knew I had trained you well." Draco smirked with mock pride while Ivy just rolled her eyes as she stood and gave her brother a hug before they parted ways.

---

At yet another part of the castle, Headmaster Dumbledore and Brandon Potter were having yet another conversation on the very subject of the Dragon's Tear.

"I suppose, Brandon, that you feel that we should go and retrieve the Tear of the Dragon, yes?" Dumbledore was saying, a bit more tiredly than normal, which was to be expected, given the hour.

"Absolutely! That's exactly what Voldemort needs to return." The younger man said emphatically.

"True, but as you know, there is another Death Eater attack expected on the castle, and at the moment we do not know when that will take place. Unfortunately, Severus Snape is no longer useful in his capacity as a spy. " The Headmaster frowned momentarily, then looked thoughtful. "I wonder how wise it is of us to allow the students their Hogsmeade weekend tomorrow."

Brandon Potter couldn't see what this had to do with retrieving the Tear but forged on anyway. "Well, sir, it seems to me that's the perfect opportunity for you and me to make a quick run to Wiltshire while the majority of the school is pre-occupied with frivolity."

The older wizard looked sharply at his Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. "Make no mistake, dear boy, it will not be a quick trip to Malfoy Manor, assuming that is in fact where Lucius has taken the Tear. Again, my first duty must be to protect the students and the school, but I think we may risk the visit to Hogsmeade tomorrow, with some additional precautions. In the meanwhile, you and I and some of the other professors will stay here and begin shoring up the defenses of the school against an attack."

Brandon Potter's eyes flashed gray. "Headmaster, with respect, I have to disagree. If we allow Lucius Malfoy to keep the Dragon's Tear, the next thing that will happen is that the Death Eaters will come after Harry. You know they need him for whatever they have planned." The professor's voice was raised in frustration and a hint of anger.

"Calm yourself, Brandon. If we were to reclaim the Tear that would only give Voldemort and his minions two reasons to attack Hogwarts. Besides, it is not strictly necessary for Harry to be present in order for Voldemort to return. Any human will do, though admittedly, there may be some additional benefit, and certainly, poetic justice, if you'll pardon the phrase, for Voldemort to seek to use your nephew for this purpose." Dumbledore too raised his voice, but only slightly, and his tone did not indicate anger, only the aforementioned tiredness and frustration.

The American professor seemed to deflate in to his chair and he spoke in a more normal voice. "I just don't see how you can be so detached and calm about this. This is Harry we're talking about – the only person who ever survived the Killing Curse – and you seem as if we were simply discussing who might win an upcoming Quidditch match. Even more so, we're talking about the return of quite possibly the most evil wizard to date. Do you even really care?" The professor sounded almost despondent.

At that last question that was clearly a challenge, Dumbledore went white as a sheet, and Brandon Potter realized he had gone too far. "Mister Potter," he said, his voice tight with controlled fury. He was no longer the kindly and eccentric Headmaster. He was one of the most powerful wizards in known history, and he was angry. "Do not even think that I might have anything but the utmost concern for your family, this school and it's other students, or the wizarding world at large. I will not even dignify that statement with any further response, you will simply have to examine my actions for the last FIFTY YEARS and decide for yourself."

To his credit, Dumbledore was able to control himself to the point that the only magical manifestation of his ire was the slightest rustling of papers on his desk. Interestingly, Brandon Potter also had gone white as a sheet, but it appeared to be more from fear than from anger. There was silence for a few seconds as the Headmaster calmed down and the professor gathered his thoughts for an apology. After a few moments, he took a deep breath. "I am sorry, Headmaster. That was unfair of me. You are in a difficult spot and have to try to balance many conflicting priorities. It was foolish of me to let my own personal preferences and inobjectivity interfere with our discussion." Though the apology was sincere, Brandon felt much like he did when forced to apologize for misbehaving as a boy. The situation and the Headmaster's choice of actions did not make him happy at all.

The two adults continued to eye each other for several moments, then Dumbledore nodded, and in something much more resembling his normal voice, "I understand, Mr. Potter. Apology accepted. Perhaps it is time for us to end this dialogue for the evening and attempt to rest, best as we may." The young professor simply nodded, stood, and walked as quickly as feasible without seeming to rush to the exit.

As the Headmaster watched the elder of the two remaining Potters leave, many thoughts ran through his head. He was rather surprised at the sudden rush of anger he had felt at Brandon Potter's accusation. 'That was perhaps not a normal reaction on my part. On the other hand, neither do I entirely understand Brandon's feelings, or the rationale, if any, behind them.' What the professor had said was true – he did have to balance many conflicting priorities. But, had he done so correctly? He knew that he had probably erred in keeping Harry as ignorant as he had, or for that matter, using strong magic on Brandon Potter after the death of his family. Dumbledore could see no other way to have handled the situation that had over a decade before, or even the alarming series of events of the last several years. All he could hope is that the Potters would continue to trust him to make good decisions – and that he would not let them down.

---

Harry made his way down to the Common Room to find Sirius curled up in front of the fire. He was in dog form simply because even though Harry's uncle had announced Sirius' innocence and the _Fidelius Obliviarum_ spell had broken, the Ministry of Magic still had not officially pardoned Sirius Black.

Harry crept quietly over to where his godfather was sleeping and sat down next to the big black form. He sat there for several minutes stroking the dog quietly before he saw two big black beady eyes staring at him with what appeared to be a questioning look. "Hi Sirius. I really need to talk to you. Can you transform?" Harry sounded quite dejected at the moment.

The big black dog looked around. Harry gave a start and exclaimed, "Oh right!" and pulled out the Marauder's Map, which showed no one in the vicinity. Accordingly, the dog transformed rapidly into the real Sirius Black.

"Hey kiddo, it's awfully late, and you're awfully young to not be sleeping. What's on your mind?" Sirius asked.

Harry quickly filled his godfather in on anything and everything related to the Tear, but did not go into his plans to recover it. When he finished, Sirius looked thoughtful and more than a bit suspicious as he eyed his godson.

"Now, Harry, I don't suppose you and your friends had any plans to do and retrieve the Tear yourself, did you?" Sirius asked.

"What? Are you kidding? There's no way we would do that!" Harry objected loudly.

"Shhh! We don't want to attract anyone's attention, Harry." Harry quickly checked his map to make sure that no one appeared to be headed toward the Gryffindor Common Room.

"Er, sorry…" Harry mumbled.

The slight distraction didn't keep Sirius Black from fixing his godson with a stern look. "Maybe you should tell me everything." It was not a rhetorical question.

Harry sighed, the related the plan to Sirius. Once again, the older man looked thoughtful. "Actually, Harry, the plan is not half-bad."

Harry looked up in surprise. "Really?"

"Sure. It doesn't mean I'm going to let you do it, but it's a good plan." Harry's godfather smiled.

"Why not? If it's a good plan, it will work. Somebody has to do something!" Harry was getting excited again, and it was Sirius' turn to sigh.

"It's not that simple, Harry. In the first place, you're not dealing with some garden gnomes or even a troll. We're talking about going up against a group of Death Eaters in what is probably the well-protected Death Eater lair in England."

"Well, yeah, but Draco and Ivy are going, so they'll know all the tricks."

"Harry, you're not listening. Even if you get past the Death Eaters, what are you going to do if Voldemort is there? You will have played right into his hands."

"But, Sirius, I've faced Voldemort twice already, not to mention dementors, and they're way worse than Voldemort." Harry insisted.

"NO, Harry, it's too dangerous."

"You have to let us go. It's going to be nearly impossible without Ivy and Draco to help navigate through the castle. And I don't exactly see you letting the Death Eaters and Voldemort keep the Tear," Harry said in his brattiest voice.

Sirius growled in frustration. Why were teenagers so thick-skulled?

"Fine, Harry. If you think you're so smart, we'll just go and talk to Dumbledore about it. If he says you can go, then you have my blessing." Sirius smirked at his godson.

"NO WAY. He'll give me detention for even thinking about it. Not to mention what my uncle will do when he finds out." Harry crossed his arms and remained firmly in place.

By way of response, Sirius grabbed Harry by the ear ('Ow! Cut it out!') and started to march him up the stairs to the dormitory. "I don't think so, Harry. You've made your bed and now you have to lie in it. Literally. We'll go see the Headmaster first thing in the morning before you have the chance to sneak off anywhere. And don't try to sneak out again tonight. I plan to be back in dog form and on watch – on your bed."

Harry grumbled and swatted at his uncle who still had him firmly by the ear. It was with no small amount of complaining and struggling that Sirius got Harry into bed and then he promptly turned back into a dog and plopped down unceremoniously on the Boy-Who-Lived. It was some time before Harry settled down enough both in body and mind to fall asleep.

---

It was both a matter of convenience and coincidence the next morning that Harry and Sirius (in dog form), Draco and Ivy, and Brandon Potter all showed up at the entrance to the Headmaster's Office at nearly the same time. The four humans all traded shocked looks and the expected "What are you doing here?" was almost said in unison.

No one had the opportunity to answer as at that moment, the Phoenix statue began to turn, and Dumbledore himself appeared at the foot of the stairwell. "Ah good," he said in a jolly tone of voice, as if there were nothing strange about having four perplexed-looking people standing at the entrance to his office early on a Saturday morning. "I was just on my way to the kitchens to see if I could sneak an early breakfast. Can I bring anything back for anyone?" He looked around expectantly, while everyone else just looked increasingly baffled. "No? Well, please make yourselves comfortable in my absence, I shall return shortly." Dumbledore reached down to scratch Sirius behind the ears and then ambled off in the direction of the kitchens, smiling and humming tunelessly to himself.

Everyone else dazedly made their way up the stairs and seated themselves in the Headmaster's office where Fawkes was dozing contentedly on his perch. Harry was sitting with his arms crossed trying not to make eye contact with anyone. Brandon Potter and Draco had clearly not had any coffee and were in an unspoken contest to see who could glare the most. Ivy sat herself next to Harry and tried to smile at him, but he was too preoccupied with being angry at Sirius, who was laying on the floor, tongue lolling happily as if he were amused at something.

The silence continued for some minutes. On several occasions someone would take a deep breath as if they were getting ready to say something, but whatever they had in mind, they thought better of it, and so it was that no one spoke until the Headmaster returned some fifteen minutes later with a substantial tray of food floating along behind him.

Dumbledore seated himself silently at his desk while the food tray hovered in the middle of the half-circle of seats. Almost lazily, the headmaster twirled his hand, and napkins appeared out of thin air and tucked themselves into the collar of each person, while plates and silver appeared magically in the laps of the fairly astonished guests.

"Well," said Dumbledore, "tuck in. It appears as if we are going to be here a while, and I dare say that no one's temper will be helped by having what could prove to be a very, er, enthusiastic discussion on an empty stomach."

The five sets of human eyes traded approximately fifteen glances. Sirius, being in dog form, transfigured and walked over to the tray to helped himself to food. He still had an amused look on his face as he returned to his place and unceremoniously sat down on the floor and began to eat. Meanwhile, a pot of coffee had mysteriously poured itself three cups, which were then distributed to the two Potters and Draco who were able to overcome their various emotions enough to accept the mugs. This occurrence seemed to break the ice for everyone else to get up and begin putting food on their plates, though no one seemed keen to begin any sort of conversation.

Dumbledore sighed. "I suppose I'll begin by telling you all why you're here." He looked first, at Harry. "Harry, you are here because you've decided that you and your friends should raid Malfoy Manor in an attempt to retrieve the Tear of the Dragon and you confided in Sirius who wisely decided to bring you to confer with me."

At this pronouncement, Ivy and Draco shifted uncomfortably in their chairs and seemed very interested in their breakfast while Brandon Potter choked on his coffee. Sirius simply continued eating. Dumbledore continued, "Sirius is here because he, in a fit of responsibility, dragged Harry along to explain himself. Harry I hope your ears have not suffered permanent damage and that you were able to get some sleep last night." The Headmaster's eyes flashed with mirth. "Ivy and Draco are here because they were having second thoughts about the raid, and wanted to let me know, without alluding to the planned raid, that you thought the Tear of the Dragon was currently housed in Malfoy Manor and that I might appreciate knowing how to nullify many of that house's excellent magical defenses." Ivy and Draco continued to look resolutely at their plates. Harry shot a glance across the room to Draco and Ivy while Brandon Potter still seemed unable to get a handle on the situation.

"And," Dumbledore continued once again, after a fork full of eggs, "Brandon Potter was here to discuss further his preference that I launch an immediate attack on Malfoy Manor with the intent of retrieving the Tear of the Dragon, before Lucius Malfoy could launch an attack on Hogwarts. It appears that the Potter clan is, if nothing else, consistent." This time, it was Harry's turn to look at his uncle in surprise. Sirius continued eating.

"So, the question then is, what are we going to do?" Dumbledore finished somewhat mysteriously as he began to eat again. Five people began to speak at once. Dumbledore simply held up his hand and asked for silence. "The question was somewhat rhetorical. While I can not see that the students have done anything wrong, and thus they will not be punished or have points taken from their houses, I would be remiss if I did not stress how foolish it would have been to have attempted to retrieve the Tear of the Dragon from Malfoy Manor. Even were you fully trained adult wizards," here the Headmaster cast a momentary glance at the one professor in the room, "such an effort would have been dangerous at best, and futile and fatal at worst. Thus, there will be no raid on Malfoy Manor in the foreseeable future."

The students and Brandon Potter began to protest. Dumbledore held up his hand for silence once again. "I have not finished. I do in fact believe there will be an attack on Hogwarts, and I believe that attack is imminent. Thus, we can not continue this conversation much longer. The students will go to Hogsmeade as scheduled, which Sirius and Brandon, if you do not mind, we should probably see to the defense of the school."

The only person who seemed amenable to this pronouncement was Sirius Black, but when they attempted to protest, Dumbledore was able to silence the others present with a withering glance. Instead, everyone rose from their chair, uncertainly placed their plate on it, and again with many traded glances uneasily vacated the Headmaster's Office. Dumbledore remained in his office, briefly, while he finished his breakfast and wondered if maybe one Potter wasn't enough to keep a handle on.

---

Predictably, once clear of Dumbledore's office, Harry and Brandon Potter immediately began firing questions at one another about the raid on Malfoy Manor. Simultaneously, with a roll of their eyes, Sirius grabbed Brandon and Draco grabbed Harry and began to frog-march them to the North Tower and the main entrance, respectively. Ivy followed the boys, trying not to laugh.

By the time the arrived at the main entrance, Harry couldn't decide whether he was angrier with Draco for going to see Dumbledore or for dragging him away from interrogating his uncle. Fortunately, Draco was spared having to deal with Harry's ire as Ron, Hermione, and Jason were all waiting for them at the entrance to the school. "Hurry up," Ron exclaimed, "We've got to get to Honeydukes before the ickle firsties take all the good stuff!"

"Honestly, Ronald, don't you every think of anything but your stomach?" said Hermione in the exasperated tone she reserved for when she felt Ron was being a prat, but all the same, she grabbed his hand and headed off in the direction of the village. Harry simply shrugged and followed along, leaving the rest of the crew to follow in their wake.

While Ron dragged Hermione and Harry to Honeydukes, Draco and Ivy snuck over to Madam Malkin's to take care of some minor wardrobe needs. They seemed very relieved to not have to deal with the candy store. Everyone agreed to meet at the Three Broomsticks for some lunch.

Draco and Ivy arrived first at the Inn, and accordingly, they commandeered a booth in the corner. Draco was just beginning to mutter about "bloody Gryffindors couldn't be on time to their own funeral" when he noticed that everyone else in the inn seemed to be most interested in what was going on outside. Suddenly, Harry, Ron, and Hermione burst in, dragging Jason and Ginny with them.

"Hogwarts is under attack!" Harry exclaimed.

"Yeah, and Hogsmeade isn't far behind." Ron added. "I saw some Death Eaters apparate by the Shrieking Shack as we came in. I don't know if they're headed this way or not."

The shock of this pronouncement registered on the faces of Draco and Ivy, and it wasn't lost on Hermione either. "Harry, we've got to get you out of here! Please tell me you have your cloak." Harry shook his head.

Meanwhile, when the inn's other inhabitants heard Ron's pronouncement that Hogsmeade was under attack, they began to make a hasty exit. Even Rosmerta, the innkeeper, began to quickly close the inn's shutters and looked as if she was trying to decide how to best fortify her establishment.

"I've got an idea," Ron said. "Out the back, follow me. We've got to get to Honeydukes without being seen." This proved to more difficult than it sounded because while Hogsmeade was normally very crowded, especially on a school visit weekend, the streets had suddenly become quite deserted.

"Where are all the other students?" Ivy asked as they dodged between two buildings a little further up the High Street and a little closer to Honeydukes. They could clearly see a lot of activity at the school, which looked rather far off in the distance, and a lesser amount of activity at the far end of Hogsmeade. It was as if the Death Eaters were sweeping through the town trying to drive the residents and Hogwarts students to the other end of town. Interestingly, they did not seem bent on destruction, at least not in Hogsmeade; they appeared to be conducting a very methodical search.

"You know," said Jason to no one in particular. "We were talking for a little while after the inn started clearing out. I wonder if all the students hurried back to the castle before things got too bad, and we ended up getting left behind without realizing it." This seemed to make as much sense as anything.

Finally, they arrived at Honeydukes, which was shut up as if for a winter storm, and to all appearances, deserted. "We've got to get inside." Ron said, casting around for a way in.

"Follow me." Harry said, "There's an outside entrance to the cellar. I remember it from using the secret passage." Shortly, they were inside the cellar, which was dark and cramped. "Now what, Ron?"

"Can you find that secret passage again, Harry? I'm pretty sure the Death Eaters will search all the building but I bet they don't know about the secret passage."

"Yeah! Good idea!" Harry exclaimed. Even Draco looked impressed. Again, it wasn't long before the seven students found themselves in the even darker and more cramped secret passage back to Hogwarts. Logically, they began the trek back up to the school. They had been walking for several minutes when Harry, who was at the front, suddenly stopped.

"Ouch, Harry! What did you do that for?" Ron said, after bumping into his best friend.

"Sorry, I just had a thought. If the rest of the students made it up to the school, do you think they took roll or did a headcount or something to see who's missing?"

"I doubt it," Hermione replied shaking her head, though no one could see it in the dark. "If the school is under attack, they wouldn't have had time. The teachers would be too busy defending the castle."

"True," interjected Draco, "but somehow I think they would have been on the lookout for Harry here, given his status as a, uh, person of interest to the Death Eaters. Plus, my father is out to get me. Oh, and there's the matter of Harry's extremely paranoid and overprotective uncle." Harry tried his best to glare at Draco, to no avail.

"Plus, brother dear, I imagine the prefects will be taking a count of each of the houses." Ivy added.

"I wonder if we've been missed yet." Jason mused.

"Oh no! I just remembered! Draco, do you have the Portkey?" Harry interrupted.

"Actually, Ivy has it. Turns out it was easier to adapt her Talkkey to a Portkey than start from scratch. Why?"

"Well, what time is it? I think it's set to activate soon. What if we went ahead and used it to grab the Tear while all the Death Eaters are here?"

"No way, Harry. We've got to get back to school." Hermione said in a very loud voice.

"Er, you mean now?" Ron added with an audible gulp.

"Yeah, I mean, what better time? If everyone's here, they won't be guarding the Tear, right? Plus the Portkey is set, so it's now or start over." Harry thought he had best take a reasonable approach rather than act like a hothead over this particular issue.

"But, Harry, we don't even know if my father is here or not." This was from Draco, who sounded slightly exasperated.

"Come on, Draco. Do you really think your Dad is at home minding the fort while his buddies are trying to get hold of me to take back to Voldemort?" Harry thought he could see Ron flinch at the sound of the name. "You said yourself that he was going to lead the attack even if the Tear wasn't here to get back in Voldemort's good graces."

"Stop saying his name!" Ron added, most unhelpfully.

Harry continued, "Besides, our original plan was to go get the Tear now anyway. This just gives us more reason, and makes it easier besides. We'll be gone and back before anyone realizes we're gone. Well, before they realize we're still gone. Actually, before they realize we were more gone than we already were. Oh, never mind. You know what I mean.

There was silence for a few moments. "It makes sense." Jason said quietly. "I'm nervous as hell, but I don't know that we'll get a better chance." Harry felt a sudden surge of affection for his American cousin.

Ginny, who had been strangely quiet the whole time spoke up, "I agree. I don't like it either, but if we're going to do it, it might as well be now."

Ron gulped again and let out a very weak, "OK."

Hermione, Ivy, and Draco all disagreed, and the argument continued for some minutes before Harry put it to a vote. As no one changed sides, the vote was four to three in favor.

"OK, right. Here we go, then. Ivy?"

Ivy pulled out the Portkey and held it so they could all touch it. Since no one knew what time it actually was, it seemed like they waited an awfully long time before they felt that unpleasant hook-behind-the-navel feeling. Then they were gone.


End file.
